Saving Horse Feathers
by Weimlady
Summary: Sarah Jane, Harry and the Tenth Doctor go back to 1913 on a mission to save one of our most beloved pop culture icons. Sequel to my story, Silver & Gold, set between Runaway Bride and Smith & Jones. Characters belong to the Beeb. It's all just for fun.
1. Chapter 1

**Teaser from last episode (Silver & Gold)**

The Doctor leaned back against the TARDIS console, arms folded, smiling with delight at seeing his old friends on board again.

"So," he said. "Where do you want to go?"

Harry had been walking around the console room, gawping at its new look, but turned to Sarah when he heard the Doctor's question. "Sarah?"

"Oh," she said, grinning like a child. "I've always wanted to know how the pyramids were built. Can we go watch that?"

The Doctor's face fell. "I can tell you that," he said. "We don't have to watch it. Do you know how long it took?"

"How about Pompeii?" Harry suggested.

"Harry! Do you have a death wish?" Sarah asked.

"I wasn't suggesting we go in August of 79, necessarily," Harry answered.

"Shakespeare," Sarah said, eyes glowing. "Could we go watch a Shakespeare play in the Globe? And maybe meet the Bard himself?"

"Now who has a death wish?" Harry asked. "You want to catch bubonic plague?"

"Oh, I'm sure the Doctor wouldn't let that happen," she said, glancing over at him.

He pursed his lips and shook his head.

"Lincoln!" Harry said. "Let's go meet Abraham Lincoln! I've always wondered what he sounded like. Can we go to one of his debates with Stephen Douglas?"

"I'd rather meet John Wilkes Booth," said Sarah. Harry turned shocked eyes on her. "Well, wouldn't you like to know why he did it?"

"I'd rather stop him from doing it," he said. "But I don't think the Doctor would let me." The Doctor shook his head to confirm that suspicion. Harry thought for a second.. "I know--let's go watch the 2012 Olympics! I'm tired of waiting for them!"

"Can't do that," said the Doctor.

"Why not?"

"Already been. Lit the torch." The Doctor smiled. "You'll see. But I can't go back--can't cross my own timeline. Could take you to the 3012 Olympics if you'd like. I haven't seen those yet."

Harry and Sarah looked at each other, wide-eyed. "We've only been thinking about the past, Sarah Jane," Harry said. "There's all of the future and the whole universe to choose from!"

The Doctor gave a small sigh, turned to the console, twiddled some dials and flipped a few switches. The TARDIS started to wheeze as its central column began to rise and fall.

"Doctor?" Sarah asked.

He turned to look at them. "Well, until you two make up your minds, I thought I'd go visit an old friend. You just let me know when you come to a decision." He hurried around to the far side of the console, whacked a button, raced back and rammed a lever home. "Hang on!"

The TARDIS lurched, and Sarah and Harry grabbed the first thing that came to hand that seemed well anchored. They looked at each other with sheer delight as the wheezing grew louder and the central column flashed. "We're off!" Harry said.

"And who knows where we'll land!" Sarah cried happily.

**************

And now.....the next episode begins.

****************

The TARDIS doors opened and the Doctor stepped out. He stopped in his tracks, sniffing the air and scowling. Harry and Sarah Jane squeezed past him, then also came to an abrupt halt. They looked out over a desertscape that stretched for miles in front of the TARDIS. Snow-capped mountains appeared in the distance. The sun broiled in a cloudless sky.

"Wow," Harry said, awed. "This has got to be an alien planet. Who's your friend we're visiting? Yoda? A Denebian Slime Devil?"

The Doctor didn't answer, just bent down, picked up a small rock, sniffed it, then licked it. His eyebrows were still furrowed in a slight concerned frown.

"No," Sarah chimed in. "It's probably earth in the far future. After global warming." She thought a second and frowned. "Maybe the near future. This could be New Zealand. And the friend we're visiting is some brilliant scientist who's trying to reverse the effects and the Doctor's here to help him."

The Doctor still didn't respond. He picked a small, thick, rubbery leaf off a scrubby, heat-blasted tree that stood near the TARDIS and gave it a sniff and a lick. He wrinkled his nose at the taste and tossed the leaf to the ground. His eyes flicked from side to side under still-worried brows.

"Doctor?" Sarah said.

"Hmm?" he finally answered, distractedly.

"Where are we?" Sarah asked.

"And when?" Harry added.

He looked up at them and blinked, as if he were just remembering they were there. "Oh. Southern California. 1963."

Two dogs appeared around the edge of the TARDIS and trotted up to Harry. He knelt and offered the back of his hand for them to sniff, then ruffled their ears when their tails started wagging. A third dog followed a second later, ran up to Sarah, gave her a sniff, then backed off and yapped at her.

"And here's my friend," said the Doctor, a huge happy grin erasing the scowl from his face.

A bald, elderly man, not much taller than Sarah, appeared around the corner of the TARDIS. His green eyes sparkled with delight and he wore a cherubic grin. "Doctor!"

They hugged each other with enthusiasm. After a moment, the old man stepped back and looked searchingly at the Doctor, then reached up with both hands and took a big pinch of each of his cheeks and shook them gently. "Not another new face already. Oy!" His voice was a resonant baritone, and he spoke with a strong New York accent. "And so tall this time. I liked it when you were my size!"

"Yeah, well," the Doctor said, with some difficulty as his cheeks were being shaken. "You know me. Always changing."

"And you've brought some new friends to visit," the little man said, letting go of the Doctor's cheeks with a final gentle pat on each one and turning to beam at Sarah and Harry.

"Yes, this is Sarah Jane, and this is Harry," the Doctor said, indicating his friends. "And this is my friend Arthur," he said to them.

They stepped forward and shook hands. "Pleased to meet you, pleased to meet you," Arthur said, although it sounded more like "Please ta meetcha." "I see you've already met my pals," he added, nodding at the dogs. "That's Roy," he said, indicating a long-legged, short-coated black and tan mutt. "And that's Tex," he said, nodding at the tricolor hound mix with the droopy ears. "And that's Gabby. Guess you can see how she got her name." Gabby was the little short-legged furball who had been yapping at them all in turn since she had come around the corner of the TARDIS and found strangers on her turf.

"Well, come on up to the house," Arthur said, turning and walking around the TARDIS back the way he and the dogs had come. "We can have drinks and you can tell me about your travels."

They followed him and saw, as they rounded the corner of the TARDIS, a big, beautiful house. The wall that faced the desert was nearly all glass and rose to almost two stories in height at its peak. The figure-eight shaped swimming pool that lay in front of the house reflected in the glass, creating the feel of a cool oasis in the midst of the desert starkness.

"Alien planet," Sarah said softly as they followed behind the Doctor and Arthur. She rolled her eyes at Harry, then grinned..

"Global warming," he shot back, also grinning.

Ahead of them, Arthur and the Doctor were walking, arms linked, the three dogs shepherding them toward the house. Arthur looked up at the Doctor, squinting his eyes against the bright sun. "You been burning the candle at both ends again?" he asked.

"Is it that obvious?" the Doctor asked with a wry smile.

"Unless this face just naturally looks tired," he said.

"Been through a bit of a time lately," the Doctor admitted.

Arthur patted his arm affectionately. "We'll get you fixed up."

"Do you mind?" the Doctor asked.

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. "Mind? It's what I do!"

They entered the house and Arthur led them to the room that was on the other side of the glass wall they had seen from outside. The view was spectacular, and Sarah and Harry just gazed at it in awe for a moment.

"Left or right?" Arthur asked the Doctor. Sarah turned away from the windows to look at him. He was holding a long cushion and looking at the Doctor expectantly.

"Oh right I think," the Doctor said.

"You _are _tired," Arthur said, and lay the cushion down on the floor next to a large harp. The Doctor started to lie down on the cushion, but before he could, a gasp from Sarah Jane stopped him.

"Oh. My. God," she said, her jaw dropping. She clapped both hands over her mouth and her eyes grew huge as she stared at Arthur.

"Sarah? What's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned.

She turned stunned eyes on him for a second, then swivelled back to face Arthur and the Doctor. Arthur returned her look with raised eyebrows and a bemused expression. A grin spread across the Doctor's face. "Arthur. Oh my God. I knew I knew you. Your face was so familiar. But I couldn't place it. Until I saw the harp. Oh my God," she said again.

"What? Sarah!" Harry was starting to sound more impatient than concerned.

"Arthur. Marx, Harry. Arthur Marx," she said, turning to look at him again. Harry shook his head and shrugged one shoulder. She looked at Arthur again. "Harpo," she breathed in a reverent whisper.

"Harpo? Marx?" Harry said, looking at Arthur again.

"Guilty," the little man said. "Although it's been awhile since anyone called me that." He turned to the Doctor. "You brought me some harp fans?"

"Fans!" Sarah said. "You have no idea! Why, you're...you're...you're...a legend! Bigger than the Beatles!"

"Bigger than the Beatles?" Harpo repeated. He looked quizzically at the Doctor. "Is that a British expression?"

The Doctor shook his head. "It's just a bit early. Watch Ed Sullivan next February. You'll see. Trust me. It's a compliment." He grinned at Sarah Jane. "Bigger than Elvis might have worked better at the moment."

"Oh, way bigger than Elvis," she agreed.

"Well!" Harpo grinned, and swivelled his hips. "Thank you. Thank you very much," he said, parodying The King. He dropped back into his native New York accent. "Always nice to meet a fan. Let me get our friend played right here," he said, nodding toward the Doctor, "and then we can talk about harps all you want."

The Doctor started to lie down on the cushion again, then looked at Sarah and grinned. "Breathe, Sarah," he said. She did, and he stretched his lanky body out on the floor by the right side of the harp.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Harpo suggested to Harry and Sarah as he settled himself behind the harp. "This might take awhile."

Sarah sank into an armchair, and Harry stepped over to the couch and half-sat, half-sprawled on it. Harpo plucked a few strings, made some adjustments to the instrument, plucked them again. Apparently satisfied, he started to play.

Etherial chords echoed through the room, and Sarah had to remind herself to breathe again as she realized she was witnessing a private concert by Harpo Marx in his own home, El Rancho Harpo. It was one place she had always wanted to see, if she had ever managed a visit to the United States, but she never in her wildest dreams could have imagined this scene.

The music soared and rippled, flowed and danced, and suddenly Sarah's eyes widened even further. She looked over at Harry, and was greeted with the same astonished expression she could feel on her own face.

The Doctor was floating.

With each glorious arpeggio and glissando, he rose further off the ground. His eyes were closed, his body relaxed. He breathed deeply, in time with the music.

Harpo's eyes were closed, and his fingers stroked the strings of the harp like a lover. His cherubic grin never left his face. He opened his eyes once to glance at the Doctor, floating three feet off the ground beside the harp, but no surprise showed on his features. He just closed his eyes again and played on.

Sarah never knew how long Harpo played. Time stood still for her. But finally, the music slowed, softened, and the Doctor floated gently down to rest on the cushion. A silence of deep peace hung in the room for a long moment after the last echoes of the last chord died away. Then the Doctor and Harpo both opened their eyes. The Doctor took a deep breath and smiled up at his friend. "Thank you," he said.

He popped up to his feet in one smooth motion, as Harpo rose from behind the harp after setting it on its base. "Glad I could help," said Harpo. "Now. How about those drinks?"

He led them to the kitchen, where he invited them to sit and opened the refrigerator door. "What's your poison?" he asked. "Iced tea? Coke? Seven-up?" He turned to look at them. "Or could I interest you in something a little stronger?"

Sarah Jane and the Doctor gratefully accepted iced teas, while Harry opted for something stronger. Once his guests had refreshments, Harpo poured himself a glass of iced tea and sat down at the table with them. "Ah, so that's what that new face is supposed to look like," he said, grinning at the Doctor. "Much better."

Sarah had to agree. The Doctor looked as if he had been given back at least five of the ten years he'd lost in teleporting himself across the universe and jump-starting the moribund TARDIS.

"You do look wonderful," she said. "You're practically glowing. Guess the real thing is more potent than the DVD."

"DVD?" asked Harpo, looking confused.

"A sort of recording device," the Doctor explained. "Very popular in the time period we just came from."

"I played him your number from _Night at the Opera_ when he said your music would help him heal," Sarah elaborated.

Harpo looked more confused still. "_Night at the Opera_?"

Sarah blinked at him. "Yes. _Night at the Opera_." He looked at her blankly, shook his head. "Your movie."

Harpo looked at the Doctor, his eyebrows asking for an explanation.

"1935? Your first movie for MGM?" Sarah said. Harpo just looked more and more confused. "The stateroom scene? It's a classic! You played Tomasso, Chico was Fiorello, and Groucho was Otis B. Driftwood?"

Harpo's confusion now turned to consternation. For the first time since they had met, he wasn't smiling.

"What is it, Arthur?" the Doctor asked softly.

"I was never in a movie called_ Night at the Opera_. The last movie I made with my brothers was called _Monkey Business_."

All four of them exchanged concerned glances. "But _Monkey Business_ was only your third movie," Harry said.

"Right, we only made three," said Harpo.

"No, no," said Sarah. "You made lots more. _Horse Feathers_ was next after _Monkey Business_, and then..."

Harpo interrupted. "How do you even know about_ Horse Feathers_?" he asked.

Sarah and Harry stared at each other, then turned to face him. "We've seen it," Harry said.

"Dozens of times!" Sarah added. "It's one of my favorites!"

Harpo shook his head. "We never finished that movie. We had only started filming when Groucho... Well. We couldn't make it without him. The project was scrapped."

The Doctor, Harry and Sarah exchanged horrified glances.

"When Groucho what?" The Doctor was the only one with the courage to ask.

Harpo looked around the table, meeting their eyes in turn. "When he died. My brother Julius--Groucho--died in 1931."

They all sat in stunned silence for a moment. Sarah was the first to break it.

"No, he didn't," she said, shaking her head and looking at Harpo earnestly.

Harry backed her up. "No," he agreed. "He didn't."

Harpo looked from Sarah to Harry and then turned to the Doctor with the air of one appealing to a higher authority. The Doctor just compressed his lips and shook his head.

"He outlived you," Sarah added plaintively.

The Doctor audibly sucked air through his teeth. "Sarah," he said, in a reproving tone.

She looked at him, startled, then realized the implications of what she had said. "Oh. Sorry."

Harpo shook his head. "That's okay. I'd just as soon not know exactly when I'm going to die, but I don't kid myself it's not going to happen." He managed a crooked grin, then sobered. "Groucho should have outlived me--he was younger than me. He certainly shouldn't have died at forty-one."

"He didn't!" Sarah cried. Then she took a deep breath and looked pleadingly at the Doctor.

"I knew there was something wrong," he said softly, as if speaking to himself. "As soon as I stepped out of the TARDIS. I just couldn't put my finger on it." He looked up at Harpo. "And then there you were and everything seemed fine." He suddenly scowled. "Where's Susan?"

"Playing golf with the girls," Harpo said.

"And the children?"

Harpo frowned. "They're all grown up and on their own. You know that."

"Tell me their names," the Doctor said.

Harpo blinked at him. "Doctor, you know their names."

"Tell me anyway," the Doctor said, more gently this time.

"Bill, Alex, Jimmy and Minnie."

The Doctor blew out a relieved breath. "Good."

Harpo looked at him intently, then gave Harry and Sarah the same scrutiny. "So," he said after a long moment. "I have more than thirty years of memories telling me my brother is dead. And I have the three of you saying he isn't." His mouth curled in a lopsided grin. "Why do I want to believe you?"

The Doctor leaned forward, folded his arms on the table. "Tell us what happened, Arthur. To Groucho. How he died." His eyes never left Harpo's. "If it isn't too painful," he added gently.

Harpo laughed softly. "After all these years? I ought to be able to talk about it." The look in his eyes belied his words.

The Doctor's dark eyes absorbed and reflected his sorrow. "You never get over losing someone you love," he said softly. "You just get through it."

Harpo looked at him and nodded. Then his eyes lost focus as he reached back into his memory. "Groucho always was a worrier. Especially about money. The crash hit him hard." He looked at Sarah and Harry and smiled. "You know about the crash?"

They both looked puzzled for a moment. Sarah started to shake her head, but Harry's eyes suddenly brightened. "You mean the stock market crash? 1929?"

Harpo nodded. "That's the one. We all lost buckets of money--pretty much everything we'd earned. And then some. Went from high rollers to penny pinchers in one week's time." He smiled. "Me? I'm easy-come-easy-go. I've got my health, I'll earn some more. But Groucho..." He shook his head sadly. "He started having problems sleeping after that. Didn't help that we'd lost Mutti just the month before. Double whammy. Groucho was never the same." He sat in silence, fiddling idly with his iced tea glass.

"You said he died in 1931?" the Doctor finally said, nudging him out of his reverie.

Harpo took a deep breath and continued. "They called it an accident. Too many sleeping pills. Washed down with bathtub gin."

Harry winced. "Bad combination."

"You betcha," Harpo agreed.

"Did they have barbiturates back then?" Sarah asked Harry.

He nodded. "And they didn't realize how dangerous it was to mix them with alcohol until the sixties." He remembered where they were in time and added, "Just about now."

"You think it was an accident?" the Doctor asked Harpo.

Harpo went back to fiddling with his glass, staring at it rather than meeting the Doctor's eyes. "I wish I knew," he finally answered. He looked up at the Doctor. "Wondering just makes it harder."

They all sat quietly, images of Groucho filling their minds. "Doctor," Sarah asked after a moment. "What's going on? Is this a parallel universe?"

The Doctor gazed around the room and took a couple of deep sniffs. He looked across the table at Harpo and held out a long arm to him. Harpo reached across and put his hand in the Doctor's. The Doctor's eyes went out of focus as his thumb gently rubbed the skin of Harpo's hand. "No," he finally said. "Not yet, anyway."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Not yet?" she asked.

"Right." He let go of Harpo's hand, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Could become one, if the time slip's big enough and if the Time Lords don't think it's important enough to set right."

"The Time Lords?" Harry said. "Thought they were gone."

"Not in 1963, earth-time," he said. He looked wistfully up toward the ceiling. "They're still up there, doing what they do."

Sarah's voice softened. "You can't...?"

He looked at her with sad eyes. "Visit them? Warn them?" He shook his head. "No. Tried." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "Thousands of times." He opened his eyes and Sarah saw the familiar pain in them, but pain mixed with acceptance this time, not anger, not guilt. She felt a deep gratitude that he'd begun to heal.

"Sorry, Arthur," the Doctor said, smiling at his old friend. "Long story, nothing to do with you."

Harpo nodded his understanding.

"So, Doctor," Harry said. "Let me see if I've got this straight so far. Time has slipped. Whatever that means. And this happens often enough that it's part of the TIme Lords' job to fix it. But they haven't. Why?"

"Well," the Doctor said, drawing the word out. "If the slip is small enough and on a backwater planet..." He winced. "Sorry, sorry, I meant an unimportant planet..." He sucked air through his teeth and grimaced. "Sorry, that's no better, is it..."

"We get the picture, Doctor," said Harry. "Go on."

"They only fix significant time slips," the Doctor said. "Ones big enough to make a difference in universal history."

"Losing Groucho isn't significant?" Sarah asked in disbelief.

The Doctor looked at her with a fond smile. "It is to us," he said, including them all in the smile. "But no, as much as I hate to say it, on a galactic scale...no. One human being more or less..." He put up a hand to fend off their protests. "Even as brilliant a human as Julius Henry Marx really doesn't cause even a blip in galactic history." He shook his head sadly. "The Time Lords must have decided it wasn't worth fixing or the time slip wouldn't have gone on this long already."

The air of gloom around the table was palpable. Sarah, Harry and Harpo all sat forlornly, heads down, faces glum.

"Good thing you have your own personal Time Lord who's a friend of the family," the Doctor said quietly. Sarah's head snapped up and she stared at him. His eyes were sparkling with mischief and his grin was incandescent.


	2. Chapter 2

"You mean...? Doctor? You're going to fix it?" she cried.

"Going to give it a good try," he confirmed. "A world without Groucho doesn't bear thinking of, does it?"

"No, it doesn't!" she agreed, grinning like a child on Christmas morning.

Harpo was staring at the Doctor with huge eyes. "You're going to bring my brother back?" he said.

The Doctor sobered in the intensity of his gaze. "I'm going to do my best."

"But you've always told me you can't change history."

"It's already been changed," the Doctor said. "I'll just be setting it back on course. The course we all remember." He glanced at Sarah and Harry, including them in the "we". "That I can do. In fact," he said, the grin returning. "It's my proper job."

"So, do we go back to 1931 and hide the booze and the pills, or would that be too simple?" asked Harry.

"Too simple," the Doctor said. "We'd just be treating the symptom."

"Which means he'd try again another time," Sarah said.

"If it was deliberate, yes," said the Doctor. "If not, well, if he was that careless about what he put in his body, he'd do something equally lethal eventually. And we can't keep going back and fixing things over and over. What we need to do is fix the root cause."

"Which is?" Harry asked.

The Doctor shook his head. "Won't know till I see it. Could be anything. Well. Almost anything. Someone bullying him. Someone he cared about saying an unkind word to him on a bad day. Maybe even just slipping on a banana peel or tearing his favorite coat on a nail--an honest accident, but it made him feel like the world was against him, nothing ever went right. Then it snowballed until something fundamental changed in him, something that left him more and more fragile."

"Our version of Groucho worried about money too, and fought insomnia for years," Sarah said. "But he lived."

The Doctor nodded. "He was tough. A survivor." Harpo smiled, hearing the Doctor describe his brother in these terms. "We need to find what took that away from him, and give it back."

"How?" asked Harry.

"Jump in the TARDIS, go back and look?" suggested Sarah Jane.

The Doctor smiled. "Maybe do a little research first. Find out what other changes the time slip caused. If any."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "The library?"

"I was thinking more...his brother's brain," the Doctor said, grinning at Harpo. "Arthur?"

Harpo shrugged his shoulders. "You know you're always welcome to rummage around in there. So long as you don't mind the mess." He grinned. "In fact, can you tidy up while you're in there? A little dusting, a little vacuuming...."

The Doctor returned his grin as he rose and walked around the table. He sat in the chair next to Harpo, after turning it to face him. Harpo scootched his chair around to face the Doctor, closed his eyes and leaned forward. The Doctor started to reach his hands out to Harpo's face, then stopped and lowered them into his lap.

Harpo opened his eyes and saw the concerned look on the Doctor's face. "What?"

The Doctor threw dark looks at them all. "It just occurred to me. Another reason why the Time Lords might have opted not to fix this slip."

"What?" they all asked impatiently as a long moment passed and he didn't continue.

"If some great good comes of a time slip," he finally said. "Then they leave it alone."

Harry blinked. "Well, that makes sense."

"I'd have to leave it alone, too, if that's the case," said the Doctor.

"Some great good?" Sarah asked. "Like what, Doctor? What good could come of Groucho's death?"

He shook his head. "It could be completely unrelated. Both caused by the time slip, but nothing to do with each other."

"Like what?" Sarah asked again.

"I don't know. Could be anything. But just for argument's sake, let's say the same time slip that took Groucho also took a baby boy born in Germany in 1889. Died in infancy. A baby boy who didn't grow up to be Adolf Hitler. Because of the time slip." He looked at them all. "Would you want me to fix that?"

"Ha," Harpo snorted. "If that's the case, then the Time Lords would be right. Leave it alone. I'll give up my brother for that. And Groucho would be the first to agree."

The Doctor nodded. "Obviously that didn't happen. Or you wouldn't know who I was talking about." He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his trousers. "Arthur, if I possibly can, I will fix this for you. And for us." He quirked a smile at him. "Just wanted you to know that there's a chance I won't be able to."

"Understood," Harpo said, and again leaned his face toward the Doctor.

The Doctor gently lay his long fingers along the sides of his friend's face. "You know the drill. Anything you don't want me to see, just put it behind a closed door."

"I have no secrets from you, Doctor, you know that," Harpo said, his green eyes twinkling. "Would I let you tiptoe around in there if I did?"

The Doctor's eyes closed, and a big grin slowly spread across his face. Laugh lines formed at the corners of his eyes. "I always love doing this with you, Arthur." he said. "It's like a three-ring circus in here. How do you...what? No..." He laughed helplessly. "Now get serious. You're distracting me. I'm on a mission here." He composed himself and they sat in silence for a moment. Then the Doctor opened his eyes and looked closely at Harpo. "I thought you said no secrets. Not that I mind. It's perfectly fine. I wouldn't even mention it if you hadn't said what you said."

"What are you talking about, Doctor?" Harpo asked.

"There's a door. A closed door. Just...." he closed his eyes again. "....there. See it?"

Harpo closed his eyes. "I didn't put that there."

They both opened their eyes at the same moment and looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Do you want me to open it?" the Doctor asked.

"Feel free. Like I said. No secrets."

"Then there's something you're keeping secret even from yourself," the Doctor muttered. "And if that's the case, I don't think it would be wise to just throw the door open, not knowing what's in there."

"Can you open it a crack and peek in?" Harpo asked.

The Doctor snickered. "Only you, Arthur." He closed his eyes again, and Harpo followed suit. "You just go...somewhere else for awhile, okay? Check out your wedding day."

"Or the days we brought the kids home," Harpo said, smiling.

They both sat in silence for a moment. Then the Doctor said, "Huh."

"Huh?" Harpo asked.

The Doctor's lips curled in amazed amusement. "You'll never believe what I found."

"What?" Harpo's eyes popped open.

The Doctor's eyes opened also, and he took his hands from Harpo's face and rested them in his lap. "Your memories. From the other time strand."

"Well, what are you quitting for?" Harpo asked, picking up the Doctor's hands and pressing them against his head.

The Doctor laughed and took his hands back. "Think about it. I might not be able to close that door once I open it. And having two sets of memories could be very strange."

"Go for it," Harpo said.

The Doctor took a deep breath. "You got it," he said, placing his fingers back on Harpo's face.

They again sat in silence together for a moment. The Doctor's face tightened.

"Come on, come on," Harpo encouraged him.

"Hang about, I'm trying," the Doctor said. "It's stuck. Whoever or whatever put it there really didn't want it to be opened." The Doctor struggled for another moment, then, with a sharp intake of breath, said, "There. That's done it."

Harpo's face started at wonder and quickly proceeded through amazement to delight and on to joy. "Oh my. Oh my goodness. What a life! And I thought I had a good life as it was! But this...oh...this...it's...I mean...."

The Doctor grinned. "I think 'blimey' is the word you're searching for," he said.

"Blimey!" Harpo said, with great emphasis and in a faux English accent.

"You and your brothers brought a lot of happiness to a lot of people, Arthur," the Doctor said.

"And Groucho! Oh, look at him. He's alive!" Harpo's eyes popped open, glistening with tears of joy. "Oh Doctor. Thank you."

The Doctor took his hands from Harpo's face and sat back in his chair. This time, Harpo didn't protest.

****

"Sarah Jane?"

Sarah heard the Doctor laugh her name and looked up. "What?"

He glanced at the notebook on the table in front of her and the pen in her hand and then back up at her face with an amused grin. "Were you taking notes?"

Harry was grinning too. "Of course she was. Sarah Jane Smith, intrepid journalist. Wouldn't be our Sarah without that notebook."

She ignored both the question and the comment. "Any chance for a Q&A?"

The Doctor's grin grew broader and his eyebrows lifted. "Shoot."

Sarah consulted her notebook. "Did you find anything different in his memories besides Groucho's death?"

"No. Nothing significant." The Doctor sobered a bit, but an affectionate smile lingered on his face as he answered. "Of course, he's just one man. One set of memories. But still, major world events seem to be in line with the time strand we came from. Presidents, popes, prime ministers, wars, floods, hurricanes...all the same."

Sarah nodded and read from her notebook again. "Why does he have memories of both time lines? Would everyone? Why were they behind a door and who put the door there?" She looked up expectantly.

The Doctor folded his arms across his chest, resting one index finger on his smiling lips. Sarah waited patiently. After a moment, he took a deep breath and rubbed his chin. "Why does he remember both time strands. Well, I can probably take credit for that. Time Lords tend to be rather...indelible across time displacements. Since I've been in and out of his life for the past, oh, what's it been Arthur?"

"Let me think." Harpo looked at him. "Has to be at least fifty years." His eyes went a bit out of focus, then snapped back and he grinned. "On both timelines."

"You're managing the dual memories, I see," said the Doctor, giving Harpo a pleased smile. "So no," he said to Sarah, continuing his answer. "Not everyone would have memories of the proper timestrand locked away in their heads if they've been affected by a timeslip. You two would. And anyone else I've travelled with. But not the general public."

"Ooh, now there's a thought," said Harry. "I didn't take notes," he said, glancing sideways at Sarah with a grin. "But I do have a question. Do we exist in this timeline?"

The Doctor blinked at him. "You look pretty substantial to me," he said.

"You know what I mean," said Harry. "Not us-us. Other-us. Different timeline-us."

"Oh," said the Doctor, catching on. He frowned at them. "How old would you two be in 1963? Teenagers?"

Harry nodded.

Sarah said, "Not quite."

"She's just a child," Harry said to Harpo with a wink. Harpo wiggled his eyebrows at her and she half expected him to pull out a horn and honk it at her.

The Doctor continued, ignoring the byplay. "Hospital records weren't computerized in the 40s and 50s, and there's no internet in the 60s, so we'd either have to actually go to England and check in person or I could possibly access future records--well, future past records--with the TARDIS computers, and if they've put archival birth records online at some point and if the TARDIS accesses the time slip records and not the proper timeline records, assuming that the time slip isn't fixed yet but it will be in the future..."

"Never mind," Harry said, throwing up his hands. "I guess as long as we stay on this side of the Atlantic, we don't need to worry about running into ourselves." He gave the Doctor a long look. "I was more wondering...well..." He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"Go ahead, Harry, it's okay. Whatever it is," the Doctor encouraged him. "Ask."

Harry thought for a second. "Well, what if we can't get back? I mean, why did we go into this time slip thing in the first place instead of the proper past, and what happens if we can't get back to our proper present? What if we do try to go back to the present--our present," he said with a nod to Harpo, "but we don't land in our proper present, we stay on this alternate timeline but we were never born in it?" He ran his fingers through his curly dark hair. "Oooh. This is giving me a headache."

"Well," the Doctor said, all traces of laughter erased from his features. "Why we went into the alternate timestrand is obviously my fault. I apparently should have road tested the TARDIS more thoroughly before inviting you along." He ran his long fingers through his hair, stopping with his hand sitting on top of his head. "But I so nailed the landing in Sarah's living room. Hit it dead on in both time and space. Figured she must be fine after that." He ran his hand down the back of his head and rubbed his neck.

"Doctor," Sarah said. "Don't worry about it. We're not. Are we?" She glanced over at Harry, and he shook his head emphatically. "We're obviously here and we're fine. Besides, you're going to fix the time slip so it will be a moot point."

"Yeah," he agreed, but without enthusiasm. He was rubbing his cheek thoughtfully and his eyes were dark and cloudy.

"Next question," Sarah said briskly. "Actually, part two of the last question. Why were his memories behind a door and who put the door there?"

He didn't answer for a long moment. Then he roused himself with a visible effort and responded tersely. "To protect him. His sub-subconscious."

"His sub-subconscious?" Sarah asked.

The Doctor looked up at her. "Is that how the TARDIS translated what I said?" He grimaced. "The old girl really does need a tune-up."

"Well, what did you say?"

He shook his head. "There isn't really a term for it in English." He gave her a crooked smile. "You people don't even know you have it so you haven't named it. I guess sub-subconscious will have to do. Not very elegant though."

Sarah raised her eyebrows and gave him a look. "Alrighty then," she said. She consulted her notes again. "Could you tell where the timeslip started by what you saw in his memories? And how to fix it?"

The Doctor rose from his chair and, hands firmly planted in pockets, strode out of the kitchen without a backward glance. Sarah, Harry and Harpo all exchanged blank looks. After a moment the Doctor reappeared in the doorway and peered at them with a quizzical frown.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked.

They all jumped to their feet and headed toward the door. He turned and they followed him down the hall and back out into the desert sunshine.

"Where are we going?" asked Sarah, as she jog-trotted to keep up with his long strides.

"The TARDIS. I need to check something with her before I can answer that last question."

The sun had dropped in the sky since they had arrived, but the heat was still oppressive, especially after the relative cool of the house. The Doctor plunged directly into the TARDIS, while Sarah waited at the door for Harpo and Harry. Once they arrived, they all climbed the ramp toward the central console, where the Doctor was already tapping away at a computer screen and its associated keyboard.

"What I saw," said the Doctor, with no preamble, "was a bit of a fuzzy spot."

"In my brain?" asked Harpo, a bit puffed from the fast walk to the TARDIS.

"Yes."

"Surprised there wasn't more than one."

The Doctor quirked a grin at him. "There were a few, actually. But there was one that was considerably bigger than the others." He turned back to the monitor screen and scrutinized it intently.

They all gathered around and looked at the image on the screen.

"Looks like a ball of yarn," Harry said.

The Doctor touched a spot on the screen and clicked a key, and the two-dimensional image popped out into a three-dimensional holograph that appeared to be hovering over the keyboard. It did look like a multi-colored ball of yarn, albeit a tangled one, with myriad strands wrapping around each other.

"After the cat's got to it," Sarah said.

The Doctor was clicking more keys and touching the image delicately here and there with a long fingertip. As he worked, yarn-like strands popped forward or dissolved back into the mass. As they watched, the image zoomed in closer and closer on one strand, which started off a peachy-pink color, then abruptly changed to a double-strand of varying shades of turquoise and aquamarine. The colors resolved themselves as the strands frayed apart.

"Aha," he said, sounding satisfied.

The other three waited a few seconds, then rolled their eyes at each other behind the Doctor's back.

"Aha what?" Sarah finally ventured.

"Just as I thought," he answered. "That spot there..." He pointed to the section that couldn't seem to make up its mind as to what color it should be. "...corresponds with the fuzzy spot in Arthur's memories."

"So," Harry asked. "This is a graphical representation of his memories?"

The Doctor looked up at him, surprised. "No. It's a graphical representation of time."

"Time?" Sarah asked, looking at the holograph again more closely.

"Well, as close as you can come with only three dimensions." The Doctor fiddled with the image again and clicked more keys. The image zoomed back out to show the whole ball of yarn, which suddenly was in motion. "There. That comes closer."

Harry bugged his eyes out at it, pulled his head back, then pushed it forward again, peering at the image intently. "It's gone all wibbly-wobbly." He stared for another moment, turned his head away and shut his eyes, then opened one a crack and peered at the hologram sidewise.

"Yup," the Doctor said. He clicked and fiddled again and zoomed back in on the strand he had pointed out earlier. It was now wriggling in mid-air like a hyperactive worm.

"So, that bit of time corresponds with Harpo's fuzzy memories," Sarah said, trying to wrap her mind around this concept of time. "Well, I see why you call them timestrands, and not timelines."

"They're really not that clearly separated," the Doctor said. "But even the TARDIS can only do so much with graphics."

"So, when is that bit?" Harpo asked.

"Early twentieth century," the Doctor said. "Probably in the teens. I'll have to do some more calculations to try to isolate the exact temporal co-ordinates."

"You were in vaudeville then, weren't you?" Sarah asked Harpo.

He smiled. "Yeah. Crazy time. Travelling all over the country, four shows a day, sleeping four to a bed in cheap hotels. Just trying to make it to the big time."

"And that's the time slip there? Where the color changes and the two strands fray apart?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," the Doctor said, giving Harry an approving look. "_Molto bene_, Harry!"

"So that's where we have to go to fix it?" The Doctor just nodded this time as he continued to work on the image.

Harry and Sarah stared at it, watching it wiggle and squiggle and swoop through the air. They looked at each other then, the same thought occurring to them both.

"Erm, Doctor?" The Doctor just grunted in response. "How good are you at hitting a moving target?"

The Doctor looked up from his work, glanced at Harry and then saw where his and Sarah's eyes were focussed. "I hit a moving target every time I land the TARDIS," he said. "Time only stands still in novels."

"Oh," Sarah said, eyes wide and thoughtful. She took a moment to process the information. "Well. I have a whole new appreciation for why you sometimes...erm...miss the mark, then."

The Doctor had refocussed his attention on the holograph while Sarah was thinking, but he looked over his shoulder with a smile at her comment. "Thank you. I appreciate your appreciation," he said. "High time, too. It isn't easy, piloting this ship by myself." He went back to the holograph, punched a few more keys, and it faded from sight. He turned and lounged against the console, folding his arms and crossing his legs.

"Right. Ms. Smith, I have an assignment for you," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Her eyebrows went up but she smiled.

"Arthur," he said. "I know your memories of that time period are fuzzy, because I've seen them. But how much do you have in the way of memorabilia from your vaudeville days?"

Harpo pooched out his bottom lip thoughtfully, shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, just a couple of trunks worth."

Sarah gasped, and her eyes nearly popped from her head. The Doctor smiled. "Sarah, I think you're way ahead of me."

"If my assignment is to go through those trunks with Harpo, I accept!" she cried happily.

The Doctor grinned. "Exactly. Find out where he and his brothers were, as precisely as you can, in 1912, 1913, and 1914." He turned to Harry. "Harry, with me as assistant TARDIS mechanic, or with Sarah and Arthur on research duty?"

"What does an assistant TARDIS mechanic do?" Harry asked.

"Hand me tools."

"I'm with Sarah, then" Harry said with a grin. "Unless you really need someone to hand you tools."

"Nah," the Doctor said, returning his grin. "I can manage. Alright then, everyone, _allons-y_!"

With that, he pulled up a section of the floor and dropped into it like a prairie dog disappearing into its hole.

*******

Several hours later, they all reconvened around the kitchen table. Susan, Harpo's wife, had arrived home from the golf course, been introduced to Sarah Jane and Harry, and had been brought up to date on events. Much to Sarah's amazement, she took it all in stride. But then, Sarah thought, being married to Harpo Marx for twenty-seven years probably had prepared her for just about anything. Or maybe she was just that kind of accepting person, which is why Harpo loved her. And Harpo did love her--that was plain. Sarah rarely regretted her single life, but seeing couples like Susan and Harpo, still so obviously doting on each other after more than a quarter of a century together, was one of the things that did give her the odd twinge for what might have been.

Harry went out to the TARDIS to fetch the Doctor in to dinner. He arrived in the kitchen with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows, no tie, collar open, hair dishevelled and with a smudge on one cheek. He promptly swung Susan into a joyous airborne hug. He planted a kiss on her forehead when he finally set her back on the floor and beamed down at her.

"My goodness, you're tall and slim this time," she said, pulling his face down to hers to return the kiss. "Sit! Eat!" She pulled out a chair for him in front of the laden table.

He took a moment to wash up and then sat, rolling down his sleeves and buttoning the cuffs before digging into the feast in front of him.

"Everything looks wonderful," he said. He slapped a soft corn tortilla on his plate, loaded it with spicy ground chorizo, then piled lettuce, tomato, onions, peppers, shredded cheese, sour cream and guacamole on top of the meat, rolled it all up and took a messy bite. "Umm!" he purred, munching happily.

"If you don't like spicy, there's plain ground beef," Susan said to Sarah and Harry.

"Oh, be brave, try the chorizo," the Doctor said around a mouthful of soft taco. "It's great!"

There was nothing but casual small talk for awhile, as they all dug in and enjoyed their dinners. Susan's golf game, the wonderful fresh California fruits and vegetables they were eating, and Harry, Sarah and Harpo's adventures in digging in Harpo's old trunks kept the conversation going until they'd reached that delightful stage of filling up the corners, as Tolkien put it.

"So, how's the TARDIS?" Harry asked, peeling an orange for dessert.

"She's great," the Doctor answered as he popped the last bite of his third soft taco in his mouth. He chewed a bit, then went on around the mouthful of food. "Couldn't find a thing wrong with her." He took a swig of iced tea and swallowed. "I'm starting to think I may have been a bit hard on myself earlier. Coming here might have been her idea."

"Her idea?" Susan asked quizzically. "Your...time ship?"

"Yup," the Doctor said. "She knows how fond I am of you two," he went on with a warm smile for Harpo and Susan. "And Arthur's done the grand tour in her, so she knows him. And she probably even knows what a huge fan Sarah is. So, when I set her coordinates to come here, and her sensors detected the time slip, well..." He shrugged his shoulders. "Here we are."

"You're going to give him a big head," Susan said, laughing and leaning against her husband. "Concert harpists aren't used to having fans."

"Ah, but you forget, my dear. I'm a movie star in her eyes," Harpo said.

"That's right," she said, her eyes twinkling. "I did forget."

"You should have seen her up in the attic, Doctor," Harry said with a grin, nodding toward Sarah. "Rooting around in those trunks. She was happy as a pig in clover."

"Yes I was," she agreed with a smile, looking at Harpo. "I've read every book ever written by or about you and your brothers. Seen all your movies so many times. And yet I was finding things up there that I'd never seen in any book. And with you in person right there to fill in the details." She sighed and looked around the table, dreamy-eyed. "I've pinched myself so many times I'm black and blue." She caught the Doctor's eye. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Don't thank me yet," he said, but with a smile. "We still have work to do." He reached over and helped himself to one of the orange sections that Harry had separated and laid out on his plate. "Did you find out anything helpful?"

"Yes, actually, I think we did," Sarah said. She rose from her chair and stepped over to the far end of the kitchen counter, where a pile of old documents sat. "These," she said, as she laid them out on the counter. "Are photos, posters, programs, handbills and newspaper clippings about vaudeville shows that featured the Marx Brothers in a three week period in 1913."

The Doctor nabbed another orange section off Harry's plate as he rose and went to look at the documents.

"And?" he asked.

She grinned. "And Harpo doesn't remember a thing about any of them."

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. "Not on either timestrand?" He looked over his shoulder at Harpo, who shook his head.

"Not a glimmer," Harpo said. "Course, that could just be old age. It was fifty years ago."

"Did you remember other things from that time?" the Doctor asked.

"Clear as a bell," Sarah answered for him. "There's nothing wrong with his memory. Except..."

"Except during these three weeks," the Doctor said. "Sarah Jane, how long has it been since I told you you were brilliant?"

She rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling in a pantomime of deep thought. "Hmmm," she said. "As I recall..."

"Well you are," he interrupted with a grin. "Let me check these dates against the TARDIS coordinates for that fuzzy spot in the time strand and if they match, we're off! Arthur, may I borrow these?"

"Ask Sarah," Harpo said. "They're hers."

Sarah ducked her head and grinned. "He said I could have them."

The Doctor gave her a stern look. "If those turn up on Ebay...." He stopped, sighed. "Oh, what am I talking about. Who am I talking about? They're not going anywhere, are they?"

"Not till they're pried from my cold dead hands," Sarah said, gathering them up and holding them against her chest protectively. She bugged her eyes out at him.

"May I borrow them?" he asked formally, holding his hand out to her.

"You may," she said, handing them over. "But take care of them."

He just raised an eyebrow at her.

"Are we going to have to avoid actually meeting Harpo when we go back?" Harry asked, popping one of his remaining orange segments into his mouth. "That could get tricky."

"Why would we have to do that?" the Doctor asked. He put the documents carefully back down on the counter and sat down at the table again, helping himself to another piece of orange.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Would you like an orange, Doctor?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," the Doctor said, munching on his purloined orange bit. "Why would we have to avoid Arthur?" he asked again. "It's not like he's going with us." He glanced over at Harpo. "Sorry, Arthur. You know you're always welcome. But you'd just have to stay in the TARDIS because we couldn't risk you meeting yourself. And while we'd enjoy your company, it could get pretty boring for you."

'Well, if we meet him," Harry said, "then he would have recognized us when we arrived today. And he didn't. So it sounds like we don't meet him. Or shouldn't meet him. Or is that just more of that fuzzy memory spot in his brain?"

"Arthur, did you recognize us at all when we arrived?" the Doctor asked. "Even vaguely?"

"You, I always recognize," Harpo said to the Doctor with a smile. "But it has nothing to do with what body you're wearing."

The Doctor nodded and returned his smile.

"These two?" Harpo said, scrutinizing Harry and Sarah Jane's faces as if he were seeing them for the first time. He tipped his head to one side, and then the other. "I can't say. After today, they seem like old friends." He grinned. "I can't remember not knowing them."

The Doctor grinned, then turned to Harry. "Harry, we're just going to have to play some things by ear when we get there," he said. "You may recall from when you travelled with me before that that was always a big part of my method."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Harry answered.

The Doctor just looked at him, eyebrows raised gently.

"Hasn't changed, eh?"

The Doctor shook his head.

Harry gave him a wry grin. "Well, it was never boring."

"Nope!" the Doctor said. He jumped to his feet and started clearing dishes from the table. "Let's get the washing up done and then we can hit the road."

"Oh, no, Doctor," said Susan. "You're not leaving at this time of night."

"Of course I am," the Doctor said mildly, sounding confused. "Why not?"

Susan shook her head and took the dishes from him. "You may not need sleep, but humans do. How long have you two been up?" she asked, directing her question to Sarah and Harry.

They both looked blankly at each other for a moment.

"Is this still the same day we drove to Cardiff and back?" Sarah asked. "Can't be. That seems like ages ago."

"Yes, it is," Harry said. "And we left your house about four in the afternoon, and got here around noon by the sun, so that adds four hours to our day." He looked at the clock on the wall. "So, our bodies think it's midnight."

"Jet lag," Susan said.

Sarah grinned. "TARDIS lag."

"Either way, you're staying the night," Susan said emphatically. "I'll be insulted if you don't. We'll fix you a nice breakfast in the morning and give you a proper sendoff."

The Doctor frowned but didn't say anything.

"Doctor?" Harry said. The Doctor looked at him. "The human body doesn't run on adrenaline quite as well as it ages." He raised his eyebrows to punctuate his statement.

The Doctor sighed. "OK," he said. Then he broke into a charming grin. "Thank you, Susan. We accept."

"Good," Susan said, and Harpo smiled his agreement. "Nightcaps in the living room and then off to bed."

Nightcaps in the living room turned into several hours of amicable conversation. Harpo was the first to give in. "I don't know how you kids do it," he said. "But I'm going to have to say goodnight and hit the hay."

"I didn't want to be the first to admit it," Harry said. "But I'm about to drop off where I sit."

"Come on, then, let me show you your rooms," Susan said, leading the way out of the living room. They followed her down a long hallway, where she stopped in front of a door. "You two can have the guest bedroom," she said to Harry and Sarah, "And Doctor, you can have Billy's room."

Harry and Sarah Jane looked at each other for a moment. "Susan," Sarah said gently, shaking her head. "We're not..." She gestured towards herself and Harry.

Susan looked baffled for a moment, then caught on. "Oh. I'm sorry! You just seemed so.... Well, of course, no rings. I should have noticed that."

"Not a problem," Sarah said.

Harry just smiled rather wistfully. "I can sleep in the TARDIS," he offered.

"Oh, no, we've got plenty of room," Susan said. "With the kids gone, all of their beds are available. You can have Jimmy's room, Harry. Now, do you need anything? Toothbrushes, pajamas, anything?"

Sarah and Harry again looked at each other, this time laughing. "We just jumped in the TARDIS with nothing but the clothes on our backs," Sarah said. "We need everything!"

"We'll get you fixed up, all of you," said Susan, bustling off to procure the necessities.

"Susan." She stopped and turned back at the sound of the Doctor calling her name. "I have everything I need in the TARDIS. And I do have to check some more coordinates before we take off. So, if you don't mind, I'll spend the night in her."

She looked at him. "Are you sure?" He nodded. "Well, you come in for breakfast in the morning, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin. "Harry. Sarah. Sleep well. See you in the morning." His eyes sparkled with anticipation. "And then--it's off to 1913!"


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah was the last one to show up for breakfast. She had intended just to take a quick shower, but when she saw the ornate tub and the assortment of bubble baths and bath oils on the shelf next to it, she couldn't resist. She filled the huge tub with lavender-scented bubbles and sank into them, feeling utterly decadent and loving every minute of her long luxurious soak.

Once she forced herself to climb out of the tub, she wrapped one velvety-soft deep-pile towel around her hair and another around her body, and found that Susan had slipped into the room at some point and left her a selection of fresh clothes. The note on top of the pile said _I know how much I hate to wear the same clothes again the next day. See if any of these suit you._ Sarah tried them on, checked out her reflection, and decided on the navy pedal pushers and a brightly colored embroidered blouse cut in the style of a poncho with fringed edges. She twirled in front of the mirror, gave her image an approving nod, and headed out the door.

When she arrived in the kitchen, Harry and the Doctor were tucking into Spanish omelets, Harpo was sipping his coffee, and Susan was bustling about making sure they all had what they needed before they could even ask.

Harry was the first to spot her. His eyes opened wide. "Wow," he said, and gave a low wolf whistle.

Sarah just rolled her eyes. "And good morning to you, Harry."

The Doctor looked up from his plate and gave her a low-key smile.

Before she could say anything else, Susan turned and saw her. "Oh, perfect choice!" she said, beaming. "That looks better on you than it ever did on me. It sets off your eyes and hair perfectly. It was meant to be yours."

"Oh, no," Sarah protested. "I couldn't. I mean, I really appreciate the loan..."

"Not a loan. A gift. Now sit and have some breakfast."

Sarah sputtered a few more protests, but did sit and helped herself to an orange and a muffin.

"Sleep well?" Harpo asked.

"Like a baby. Or a log. Pick your cliche," she answered with a grin.

"How about a baby log?" Harry suggested.

She rolled her eyes at him again, but had to laugh at his silliness. Everyone around the table joined in. Everyone but the Doctor, who just looked up and again smiled that low-key smile.

"Alright, what's up?" Sarah asked him abruptly. Harpo grinned and Harry looked surprised.

The Doctor just looked at her thoughtfully.

"She knows you way too well, Doctor," Harpo said.

"She does, doesn't she," he said ruefully. He pushed his plate away, his omelet only half-eaten, and sat back in his chair. He glanced at all of them in turn, then looked down at his hands and sighed. "I did a lot of thinking last night."

"And?" Sarah prodded, after a long moment.

He sighed again and looked Sarah in the eye. "This was supposed to be a pleasure trip for you two. I never meant to involve you in anything like this." His eyes shifted to Harry, then back to Sarah. "Maybe you should wait here. I'm sure Arthur and Susan would look after you until I get back."

"Well of course we would," Susan said, and Harpo nodded his agreement. "Love to have you stay for a visit!"

"And what if you don't come back?" Harry asked.

"Harry!" Sarah said, glaring at him.

"I don't mean deliberately, Sarah Jane," Harry started to answer, but the Doctor interrupted.

"No, you're right to ask. It certainly wouldn't be my choice not to come back, but, well, you know how it is with me. Things happen..." he trailed off, thought for a moment. "That's why I'm suggesting you stay here. I don't want to put you two at risk." He looked at Susan and Harpo. "Worst case scenario, you'd still have each other. Arthur and Susan could help you start new lives." He raised his eyebrows at the Marxes, asking for confirmation of what he'd offered, and they both nodded vigorously.

"Live through the sixties again?" Sarah Jane said, giving him an incredulous look. "At our age? Oh, I don't think so, Doctor. Once was enough."

Harry laughed. "Doctor," he said with a lopsided grin. "We may be older but we aren't senile. We know what travelling with you is like." He paused a moment, looking at Sarah. "And it is a pleasure trip. Right, Sarah?"

Sarah looked at Harpo and Susan and smiled. "Better than anything we could have asked for," she answered.

"But Doctor," Harry continued, growing serious. "I'll say this now, in case I can't later. If I should ever happen to go down fighting at your side, don't waste a minute on guilt or regret for it, because it would beat hell out of dying quietly in bed." He let the words hang in the air for a moment. "Right, Sarah?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Dying quietly in bed sounds pretty good to me." Harry gave her a startled look. She laughed and continued. "But going down fighting at the Doctor's side would come a close second."

The Doctor fixed her with a penetrating look, and her face sobered. His brown eyes seemed to see clear to the bottom of her soul, but she returned his gaze steadfastly. He turned his eyes to Harry and gave him the same scrutiny. Then he looked at Harpo and Susan, and the low-key smile of before was scrapped for his usual megawatt grin. "Can I pick 'em, or can I pick 'em?" he said.

"You can pick 'em, Doctor," Harpo agreed, his grin not far behind the Doctor's in wattage.

"Let's go save Groucho, then!" he cried.

"_Molto bene_!" said Harry.

"_Allons-y_!" cried Sarah.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and looked askance at them for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

"Oh, one thing you should know, Doctor," said Harpo. The Doctor was immediately attentive. "If you're heading for 1913. We didn't get our nicknames until 1914."

"That's right. The poker game with Art Fisher," Sarah said.

Harpo raised his eyebrows and bugged his eyes out at her.

"In May." The eyebrows went higher. "In Galesburg, Illinois," she added, just to show off.

"You really are a fan!" Harpo said, amazed. "Well, then, I guess I don't need to tell you my brothers' proper names."

"Leonard, called Leo," she answered promptly. "Named Chico by Art because he chased the chicks."

Harpo nodded.

"Arthur, named Harpo for his angelic way with a harp." She smiled.

"That's me!" he said.

"Julius, named Groucho, for reasons the historians still argue about."

"Historians? Historians argue about my brother's nickname in the future?" He shook his head. "Amazing."

Sarah grinned. "They're still arguing about how Herbert earned the name of Zeppo, too. But everyone seems to agree that Milton was Gummo because he wore gum shoes."

"That's it!" Harpo agreed. He looked at the Doctor, who had been watching Sarah with a big grin throughout their exchange. "How could you even have thought of leaving her behind, Doctor?"

The Doctor looked at her and his grin slowly grew broader. "I don't know, Arthur." He shook his head. "I just don't know."

Susan and Harpo walked out to the TARDIS with them to see them off, his arm around her shoulders, her arm around his waist. They said their goodbyes in front of the blue box, and Sarah, for a fleeting moment, almost wished she could stay here with them. All the wonderful, glowing things she'd ever read, heard or dreamed about Harpo Marx had turned out to be a pale shadow of the real man. She felt like she had known him forever, not just the less than twenty four hours that it had been since they had arrived in 1963. But then…there was Groucho. And the Doctor. She turned, and with a final wave, stepped into the TARDIS.

As she climbed the ramp, she saw Harry lounging on the bench seat and the Doctor peering at the console control screen, glasses perched on the end of his aquiline nose. He turned to her. "Ready?"

"Ready," she said.

"Then we're off!" He whacked a big green button, raced around the console to the far side where he flipped a series of switches in precise order, then, holding down a lever, stretched one long leg out to thump another button with the heel of his Converse.

The TARDIS wheezed and groaned and Harry and Sarah Jane's grins nearly matched the Doctor's for manic excitement.

They landed with a thump and the console went quiet. Sarah was the first one down the ramp to the doors, Harry on her heels. They looked back at the Doctor. "Coming?" Sarah asked.

He was still peering at the screen. "Go ahead. Just want to check a few things." They opened the doors. "But don't wander off!" he said, giving them a stern look from under lowered brows.

"We know better than that," said Sarah.

"That's what they all say," she heard him mutter, as she stepped out the door.

"Smell that air," Harry said, following her out and taking a deep appreciative sniff. "Pre-internal-combustion engine. Or nearly so," he added as he spotted a Model T chugging down a road several hundred yards distant.

Sarah Jane looked back at the TARDIS just in time to see the Doctor coming down the ramp, shrugging into his long coat. He took one step out of the doors, then grabbed the door frame and clung to it, his momentum making him swing around wildly, his coat tails swirling around his legs.

"Doctor!" Sarah Jane cried, running back to the TARDIS.

He had hopped back inside the TARDIS and was staring out at the peaceful scene in front of his ship with stormy eyes.

Sarah stopped a few feet in front of the TARDIS. "What happened?"

"Not sure," he said. He tentatively started to step out onto the earth again, but as soon as his foot touched the ground he jerked it back. He stared at Sarah Jane and Harry. "Nothing seems wrong out there to you?"

They looked around, then at each other, then back at him. "No," they both said. "Seems perfectly normal," Harry added.

"Come here," the Doctor said, beckoning them to come right to the front of the TARDIS. "Now turn around." They did as he asked, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the door and facing away from the Doctor and the TARDIS. He placed a hand on Sarah's left shoulder and Harry's right shoulder and moved them far enough apart for him to fit in between. Then he took a deep breath, blew it out, and stepped out of the TARDIS.

Sarah felt his long fingers clamp down hard on her shoulder and looked up at him. "What is it?" she asked.

He was leaning heavily on them, almost hanging between them, his mouth open, eyebrows arched, his eyes roaming the scene in front of him dazedly. "Oh, this is weird," he breathed softly. He turned his head in Sarah's direction and his eyes travelled up and down and across her face, but he didn't seem to be seeing her. She felt like a painting he was examining, not a person he was looking at.

"TARDIS," he finally said. He let go of their shoulders, pivoted, took a step forward and stumbled. Sarah and Harry had turned with him, caught him by the elbows before he could hit the ground, and helped him back into the TARDIS.

As soon as he was back within the doors, he took off up the ramp with his usual long, quick stride. Sarah and Harry followed more slowly.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, frowning, as the Doctor rapidly clicked keys and touched the screen of his console monitor.

"We missed," the Doctor said.

"Well," Sarah said. "It's hard to hit a moving target."

He gave her a grateful smile.

"So, where are we? Or when are we? And what's going on with you outside?" asked Harry.

"We're after the time slip." He called up the holographic representation of time that he had shown them before, and zoomed in on the frayed strand that represented the time slip. "We're about here," he said, pointing at the section where the two bluey-greeny threads were wibbling and wobbling back and forth, sometimes touchnig, sometimes crossing, sometimes drifting further apart. "And I was shooting for here," he said, pointing at the spot just before the strand divided. Then he leaned his elbows on the console and ran his fingers through his hair, distraught. "And what's going on with me outside is something I never anticipated." After a moment, he straightened up and looked toward the door of the TARDIS, still standing open. "The time distortion out there is just..." He stopped and sucked air through his teeth. "Nasty," he finally added.

"Time distortion?" Sarah asked. He just nodded glumly. "Why don't we see it?"

One corner of his mouth curled up. "Because you're not Time Lords."

"I thought you said the Time Lords fixed time slips all the time. Bigger ones than this," Harry said.

"They do," the Doctor agreed.

"Then, why wouldn't you have anticipated this?"

The Doctor looked out the doorway again with a sour expression. "The Time Lords don't get hands-on with timeslips, Harry. They fix them from Gallifrey. With big machines."

"Do you have one of those machines?" Sarah asked.

He shook his head. "Even if I did, it wouldn't fit in the TARDIS. Does that tell you big they are?"

She nodded thoughtfully.

He shook his head again. "I've never even heard of a Time Lord getting up close and personal with a time slip. I just reckoned it was because they preferred to do it long-distance. They never did like to leave the planet," he said. "Now I know another reason."

"It's that bad out there?" Sarah asked gently.

He nodded. "Imagine everything you saw, heard, smelled, tasted and touched was distorted. Not right. Crazy. That's as close as I can come to describing it."

"But you're okay in here?"

He nodded again. "The TARDIS is outside of time."

"So, we need to go back before the slip happened, right?" Harry said. "Then you'll be fine, we can prevent it, and Groucho lives."

The Doctor pooched his lips out unhappily. "Yep," he said. "That's what we need to do alright."

Harry waited a moment, but the Doctor just stood, looking gloomily out the door. "So, why aren't you..." and he gestured to the console, miming pushing buttons and flicking switches.

"What if I miss again?" the Doctor said.

"Should be a whole lot easier from here, shouldn't it?" Harry said. "What are we, a couple of weeks off? A six inch putt is a lot easier to sink than a hole in one off the tee."

"Even Tiger Woods misses a six inch putt every now and then," the Doctor answered.

"Well, then, you just try again," Sarah said. "Eventually we hit it spot on."

He shook his head. "Can't do it that way. Too much risk of crossing our own timelines. Especially when time is so fragile here to begin with."

"So..." Sarah said, not wanting to believe what she was hearing from him. "We're giving up?"

"No, no, not at all, that's not what I'm saying," he quickly reassured her, but he still wasn't smiling. "I'm just saying I can't dematerialize her and rematerialize her in a new spot, the way I usually do."

"There's another way?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I can throw her in reverse."

"And how is that different from your usual?" Harry asked.

"It's entirely different," the Doctor answered. "My usual is to dematerialize, which takes the TARDIS right out of space time, and then rematerialize, which puts her back in it. Throwing her in reverse, she stays where she is in space and just plows backward through time. Second by second. Minute by minute."

"So we can't miss the time slip," Sarah said. "That's brilliant."

The Doctor didn't respond to the praise.

"You don't look happy, Doctor," she finally said.

"I'm not," he agreed, looking very unhappy indeed. "She won't be either," he added, indicating the TARDIS. "Type 40s weren't really designed to back up in time without dematerializing first. It's actually a design flaw that allows you to do it at all. They fixed it in the newer models."

"But you've done it before," Harry said, making it a statement, not a question.

The Doctor nodded. "When I was..well...the Time Lord equivalent of a teenager. My mates and I thought it was great fun to nick a Type 40 and run it backwards through time."

Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "You were a TARDIS thief?"

"Well," he said, drawing out the word and scratching his ear. "Not really. Not then anyway. We just...borrowed a TARDIS. We always returned it."

"Joyriding Time Lord teenagers," Harry said with a big grin on his face. The Doctor shot him a sober look. "Sorry. Just..never thought about you as a teenager before," Harry added.

"The point wasn't to joyride, as you say," the Doctor went on. "It was more in the nature of a dare. And a competition. To see who could hang on the longest while being dragged backwards through time."

"Oh, now I'm starting to look unhappy," said Harry, suiting his face to his words. "Dragged? Through time?"

The Doctor nodded, then realized what Harry was implying. "Oh. No. You'll be fine. You'll be in the TARDIS. The dare was to stand outside the TARDIS doors, hang on, and let yourself be dragged through raw time. Unprotected."

"And did you win the competition?" Harry asked.

The Doctor blew out a puff of air. "I learned my lesson on the first go. After that, I was the designated TARDIS backer."

"Well, that's great," Harry said. "We've got the most experienced TARDIS backer in the universe at the helm."

"It would be great," the Doctor said, "if I could be at the helm. But you and Sarah are going to have to run the TARDIS."

Sarah looked at Harry with a startled frown. "Why?" she asked.

The Doctor gave a heartfelt sigh. "Because I'm going to be out there." He nodded at the TARDIS doors.

"What?" Sarah exclaimed. "Why?"

"Because it's the only way I can think of to know exactly when we're clear of the slip."

"Doesn't the TARDIS have instruments to tell you that?" Harry asked.

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, she does," he agreed. "But my reaction time will be quicker. Running her in reverse will pull power from all of her systems and slow up her sensors significantly. Do you fancy living through a good bit of the Edwardian era to get back to this point?"

They looked at each other. "Not really," Sarah said.

The Doctor nodded. "Then it wouldn't do to overshoot the slip by much. And we're liable to if we rely on the TARDIS sensors instead of my time sense."

Sarah stared at him. "But you can't function out there," she said, gesturing toward the TARDIS doors. "We've just seen that. Even when we're standing still. How are you going to handle being out there and being dragged backwards through time? Which I take it wasn't a particularly fun experience."

He shook his head. "I don't know, Sarah Jane." He gazed out the TARDIS doors. "Grit my teeth? Close my eyes? Scream a few choice Gallifreyan curses?" He gave her a half-hearted smile and a slow blink. "I'm honestly not looking forward to it. But I can't think of a way around it." His features tightened. "And I'm not about to let Arthur down over a few seconds of...discomfort."

"That's all it is? Discomfort? You won't be injured?"

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "Bleanark never seemed any the worse for it, once it was over."

"Bleanark?" Sarah asked.

"Oh. My mate. The one who held the record."

"What was the record?" asked Harry.

"Ten seconds. Well. Ten point two five."

"And how long is it going to take to back up past the time slip?"

The Doctor thought a moment. "We need to go back maybe five, six weeks tops. Bleanark's record set us back about a month. But of course Gallifreyan months are...were shorter than Earth months. So," he said, the calculations almost showing in his eyes, "maybe thirty seconds."

"Thirty seconds," Harry said, sounding dubious. "And your friend's best time was ten."

The Doctor nodded.

"And what was your best time?"

"Oh, that was such a long time ago, Harry. I couldn't possibly remember. Such a trivial detail." Sarah and Harry both just looked at him. "Three. Three point one seven actually," he finally said, rubbing his chin. After a moment, he went on. "I was so young then. So sheltered. I had no idea what pain was. Or how to bear it." His eyes grew grim. "I know now. And it's not just for a lark now. It's for a friend."

He was silent for another moment. Then he took a deep breath, lifted his chin, and said, "Right. Might as well get on with it. Sarah, Harry, I'm going to need you both on the console. Here, Sarah, you start at this station." He guided her to one of the sides of the console. "Now, when I say go, you'll need to punch this button--hard, mind you, nothing namby-pamby--flip these three switches, one after the other, right to left, and pump this handle. Three times. Pump pump pump." He mimed the motion. "Got it?" She nodded. "Then you say go, and Harry..." He took Harry by the shoulders and guided him in front of a different section. "..twists this dial twice round, cranks this handle over, and hits this big green button..." He took a rubber-headed mallet off the hook where it hung above the console. "With this mallet. Got it Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I think so. We do get a run-through, right? Before the real thing."

"Of course," said the Doctor. "So, once you've bonked the button with the mallet, you say go, and Sarah, you then shift over here," he said, moving her to the next station over, "and pull this lever down very very very slowly. Got it?" he asked, tipping his head toward her and raising his eyebrows.

She nodded.

"How are you going to pull the lever down?" he asked.

"Slowly," she said.

"How slowly?"

She gave him a sidewise look. "Very slowly."

"How slowly?" he asked again.

"Very. Very. Very. Slowly," she answered very very very slowly.

"Right," he said. "And when you hear me yell stop, you push it back up as fast and as hard as you can. Got it?"

"I think so."

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I've got it. But I would like a run-through."

"OK, let's do it." He ran them through their paces a few times as they pretended to push, twist, pump, crank and mallet various bits of the TARDIS console as instructed. After twice through letter-perfect, he gave them a big smile and said, "Well done."

"Doctor," Harry said. "Are you just going to be hanging on to the TARDIS doors?"

"Well, the frame, actually," the Doctor answered. "Yeah."

"When you were playing this game with your friends, did any of them ever lose their grip?"

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "A time or two."

"And what happened?"

He wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips. "They were out of synch for a while. Once their families twigged, they caught them up. Right and proper, sometimes."

"Okay, I wasn't really asking how Time Lord teen-aged delinquents were punished," said Harry. "I was thinking more of what would happen to you--and to us--if you lost your grip."

"Oh." The Doctor stood for a moment, mouth open, eyes thoughtful. "Harry, you're brilliant," he finally said. He lifted a section of floor grating and dropped down under the console, re-emerging moments later with a large coil of rope over his shoulder. "Here, sailor, secure this for me," he said, handing one end of it to Harry. "To something well anchored."

Harry took the end of the rope and tied it around the base of the coral column nearest to the doors. "How's that?"

"Should do," the Doctor said, standing in the doorway and measuring out the rope. He tied the other end around his waist, leaving himself just enough slack to take one step, the step that would put him outside the TARDIS. He gave the rope a final tug, then said, "Ready?"

Sarah and Harry were in position at the console. "On your word," Harry said.

"Right." The Doctor closed his eyes, took a deep breath, grabbed hold of the TARDIS door frame, and swung himself outside. "Go!" he called.

Sarah punched, flipped and pumped her designated console components, then yelled "Go!" Harry took over, twisted, cranked and malletted his bits, and yelled "Go!" back at her. She gripped the lever, and, very, very, very slowly, pulled it down. As she did, she looked over to the doorway.

The Doctor was clinging desperately to the door frame. His muscles were rigid, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his head thrown back, his mouth stretched wide in a silent scream. His hair and coat whipped wildly in a fierce wind that hadn't existed until they had set the TARDIS in gear. "The winds of time," Sarah thought in amazement. "They're not just a poetic phrase. They're real."

She pulled the lever down a bit more, still very very very slowly, and saw the winds that were buffeting the Doctor grow even wilder. His long, strong fingers were white with the strain of gripping the TARDIS, and his arms were stretched straight out as his entire body was blown back by the hurrican-force winds. She gritted her teeth and kept pulling the lever.

"Stop!" she heard him cry in a voice hoarse with strain. She immediately pushed the lever back, hard and fast, and then ran down the ramp.


	4. Chapter 4

He was standing, wavering, just outside the TARDIS doors, leaning heavily against the rope around his waist. His arms hung limp at his sides. His hair was a disheveled mop, his eyes glassy with pain and struggle. She tugged at the thick rope, trying to untie the knot the Doctor had tied around himself. He just looked down at her, blinking, but didn't move to help. Harry came up behind Sarah and took over, his strong fingers managing the tightly knotted rope better than she'd been able to.

As soon as the rope was untied, the Doctor staggered back a few paces. Then his legs folded under him and he landed, cross-legged, on the ground, his battered hands wrapped around his upper arms, hugging himself tightly, head hanging, eyes closed.

Sarah crouched down beside him. "Doctor," she said softly, laying a hand gently on his shoulder.

He flinched away from her.

"Sarah," Harry said, lifting her hand off the Doctor's shoulder. "Don't touch his arm or shoulder."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because my best guess is he has at least one dislocated shoulder. Maybe two." He looked at the Doctor.

The Doctor nodded without opening his eyes. He unclenched one hand from around his forearm long enough to hold up two fingers, then went back to holding his arm in place.

"Time Lord shoulders built about the same as human ones?" Harry asked as he went down on one knee by the Doctor's side.

He nodded.

"Reduce pretty much the same way?" Harry asked.

The Doctor nodded again. Harry put a hand behind the Time Lord's back and said, "Lie down." He obeyed and Harry eased him down to the ground. With a grimace, the Doctor uncrossed his arms and let them fall by his sides. Harry opened his shirt and slid a hand in and up to the Doctor's shoulder. He took his wrist in his other hand. "Ready?" he asked.

"Do it," the Doctor said tersely, eyes still screwed shut.

"Try to relax the muscles." Harry said. Then he pressed hard and expertly on the ball of the Doctor's humerus as he lifted and turned his arm.

The maneuver wrung an involuntary cry from the Doctor. Then his shoulder gave a soft pop, and he exhaled with a relieved sigh. Harry stood up, stepped over the Doctor's body, and knelt on his other side. He repeated the procedure with the Doctor's other arm, with the same results.

The Doctor finally opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. He blew out a relieved breath. "It always amazes me how it can go from excruciating to no pain in one simple motion," he said.

"Not the first time, then?" Harry asked.

"First time for this body," the Doctor answered. He sat up, ran a hand through his hair to try to tame it. "Thanks, Harry."

"No problem. Anything else out of place or damaged?" Harry asked.

The Doctor lifted his head, tipped it from side to side, and considered. "Doesn't seem to be. A bit bruised and battered but I'll mend." He levered himself to his feet without using his arms to push himself up.

"I'd have both arms immobilized for at least a week in a human patient," Harry said. "I suppose that won't be necessary in your case?"

"Nah," said the Doctor. "I'll be fine. No heavy lifting, no hand springs, day or so and everything will be back in order." A cheeky grin spread over his face.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"Wish old Bleanark could have seen that." His grin grew broader. "I didn't just break his record, I demolished it."

"Okay, I'm officially over feeling sorry for you now," Sarah said with asperity.

The Doctor headed back into the TARDIS at full stride, Harry and Sarah following behind. He was hunched over the console, peering into the monitor, when they caught up with him.

"Definitely before the time slip, then?" Harry asked.

"Um-hm," the Doctor said, focussing on the screen. "Looks like about a month before."

"Oh," Sarah said, crestfallen. "Sorry."

The Doctor looked at her, puzzled. Then his eyebrows lifted. "Oh, Sarah. Don't apologize. You were brilliant. Couldn't have done better myself."

"But...a month?" she asked.

"Time was flying," he said, with a grin.

"Backwards," Harry added.

"Besides, it's just as well. We need some time to assimilate."

Harry and Sarah exchanged glances. "Assimilate?" she asked.

"Yeah, you know, fit in. Make ourselves part of the local scene."

"We never worried about that before," Harry said.

"This is different," the Doctor said. "It's not like we have to stop an evil genius from doing something dastardly or prevent an explosion or some other physical event. We're dealing with a time slip and how it effects a human mind. Bit more delicate and complicated." He gave the keyboard a frustrated few hard clicks. "Besides, I can't get an absolute fix on the time slip. At this close range, it's wibbling and wobbling too much. So we'll just have to stay in the time and keep our eyes...well...all of our senses peeled." He straightened and turned to face them. "So, first things first. Wardrobe!" And he charged through the coral arch that opened off the console room.

They followed, hurrying to keep him in sight as he led them through a series of domed rooms connected by open coral arches.

"Looks like he redecorated the whole ship, not just the console room," Harry said.

"Never did do anything by halves, did he?" Sarah said.

Harry chuckled. "Not that I recall," he agreed.

They caught up with him in the wardrobe, where he was riffling through some of the myriad racks of clothes that filled it to bursting. "Everything's sorted and marked by planet and time," he said. He riffled a bit more. "Well. It was. Once. Might have gotten a bit disarranged over the centuries. Just poke around until you find something that suits the time period."

"Not sure I know what suits the time period," Sarah said, sliding hangers along a rack and scrutinizing the outfits on them.

"I put in a program when I redecorated." The Doctor nodded toward a monitor screen embedded in the wall. "Loaded with that sort of information. Pretty user-friendly. Give it a go."

Sarah looked up at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. He was lounging against the doorway arch, arms folded.

He answered her unspoken question. "I'm just going to go have a bit of a kip in the zero room. No point in starting off at less than 100%. Shouldn't take more than an hour. Two at most."

"Right," she said, giving him a close look. "Good idea. You need us to do anything for you?"

He shook his head, gave her a slow blink and a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Back in a bit." He turned, walked through the adjoining room and then disappeared from sight as he rounded a corner into another room.

"Must have taken a bit more damage than he let on," Sarah said, her eyes still on the doorway..

"Sounds like it," Harry agreed. "Well, he'll put himself into one of his healing sleeps and mend himself."

"Right," Sarah said. She gazed after him another moment, then turned back to the clothes rack and the task of finding something tagged "Earth--1913" in her size.

That turned out to be harder than anticipated. Although Sarah had never been a slave to fashion, she did like nice clothes and had always loved to explore the Doctor's wardrobe in the occasional down times when she was living on the TARDIS. She had never managed to exhaust the treasures the wardrobe offered back then, and she could tell the Doctor had been adding to it in the years since her departure. She found herself trying things on that had nothing to do with Earth at all, much less 1913. They were just irresistible.

"Feel this fabric, Harry," she said. He did and his eyebrows went up. "Isn't it amazing?" She ducked behind a rack of clothes and quickly changed into the garment, then checked herself out in the mirror. "Whoo, bit revealing," she said, ducking quickly back behind the screening clothes and changing back. "Feels absolutely heavenly, though," she called out.

"I liked the look," Harry called back.

"You would," she said. She found a long tunic that looked like it was made entirely of down. Nothing to hold it together, just down, and yet, it did seem quite sturdy. She slipped into that one and stepped out to check her reflection.

Harry looked over and chuckled. "You look like a chick that's just hatched out."

"Been hatched long enough for my feathers to dry," she countered, laughing.

Harry got into the spirit of exploration, too, and time flew by as they discovered more and more fascinating alien items and modelled them for each other.

Sarah was turning back and forth in front of the mirror in a very simple blue gown, when Harry appeared from the depths of the wardrobe wearing an ornate floor-length robe with a stiff collar that covered him from shoulder to shoulder, and circled half-way down his chest. A tight-fitting skullcap covered his curly hair and came to a point in the middle of his forehead. A large crest rose from the collar and stood up behind his head.

"Look at this one," he said. "Wonder where it's from."

"Wasn't there a tag?" Sarah asked.

"Couldn't find one."

"It's from Gallifrey." The Doctor's level voice came from the doorway, where he stood, hands in pockets, his eyes unreadable, looking at Harry decked out in full Time Lord regalia. They'd been having so much fun that they hadn't heard him return.

Sarah's dress changed from blue to dark red as she gazed at him.

"Sorry," said Harry as he removed the skullcap and ran his fingers through his hair.

The Doctor swallowed hard. "No need to be. Looks good on you." He gave Harry a crooked smile. "You'd make a fine Time Lord, Harry."

"I'll just...put it back," Harry said, and disappeared between rows of clothes racks.

The Doctor turned to look at Sarah and his lips twitched. "I don't think that would be a good choice for 1913," he said, appraising her dress.

"Why not?" she asked. "It's very plain. Would fit in almost anywhere, wouldn't it?" She turned to check it out in the mirror again. "That's odd," she said, her eyebrows furrowing. "It was blue when I put it on." The dress changed color again as she spoke, darkening to deep purple, and her eyebrows went up. The dress lightened to lavender.

His lips curved into a smile. "Think about Arthur." She looked at him quizzically, but did as he asked, conjuring up a mental image of a smiling Harpo. The dress suddenly flared bright sunny yellow.

"Think about Harry," the Doctor said, his smile broadening into a grin. The dress shifted to a warm burnt orange shade.

"Think about me," he said quietly, gazing intently into her eyes, the grin softening to a warm smile.

The dress went a little mad then, all colors of the rainbow swirling through its fabric in iridescent patterns like oil on water.

His eyebrows shot up. "Ooo, complicated," he said.

"Stop it!" she cried, feeling her own color change. She ducked behind the rack and quickly shrugged out of the odd dress and back into her own clothes. Once the dress was back on the hanger, it again became the beautiful blue that it had been when she first put it on.

"Sorry," he said, smothering a grin, as she emerged from behind the clothes rack. She didn't say anything, just hung the dress back up where she had found it. "Put it back on so I can tell if you're angry," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You don't need a dress to know when I'm angry," she said firmly. She threw him a dark look but after a moment couldn't help smiling. "What kind of people would wear clothes that advertise their feelings like that?"

"The Koricofalamazars. Their faces are nearly immobile, so they developed empathic clothing to be able to express emotion more clearly."

"Well, you're right. That would cause a bit of a sensation in 1913."

"Which brings us back to the point," he said. "Finding appropriate clothes for you two." He started riffling through the racks and quickly came up with a handful of items. "Harry," he said as Harry returned from the far reaches of the wardrobe. "Try these. Sarah..." He handed several dresses to her. "See how these suit you."

Sarah retreated behind the clothes rack again and put on the Doctor's first choice, an ankle-length dove-grey dress with decorative buttons and small ruffles at the top. She stepped out from behind the rack to check her image in the mirror.

"Wow," Harry said softly. She looked over at him in surprise. "That's nice," he added. His eyes said_ more than nice_.

"Here, this goes with it," the Doctor said, handing her a matching picture hat.

She put it on her head and faced the mirror. The image, that of a proper Edwardian lady, drew a chuckle from her. "This is _so _not me."

"It's going to have to be you while we're here. You could be arrested in this time period for wearing your usual clothes," the Doctor said.

"Seriously?" she asked.

He nodded. "Seriously. It was against the law for women to wear trousers."

"The Dark Ages," she muttered rebelliously.

"Oh, and you'll have to do something with your hair," he added.

"My hair? Why?"

"Proper ladies didn't wear their hair long and loose in this era," he explained. "And you don't want to be thought of as anything but a proper lady, do you?"

Her eyebrows went up. "I suppose not," she said.

"Bobbed hair is just becoming acceptable. I can cut it for you if you'd like."

Her eyebrows went further up. "Thanks but no."

"Then you'll have to pin it up," he said.

Muttering protests, she took hairpins he produced from his pocket and twisted her long, thick hair up into a bun, which she then covered with the hat. She looked at him expectantly.

"Perfect," he smiled.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What about me?"

"What are you going to wear?"

"What's wrong with this?" he asked, indicating his suit.

"Not exactly Edwardian," she said.

"It's timeless," he countered.

She just looked at him. He obviously considered the question closed, as he turned to check out Harry.

"_Molto bene_, Harry," he said. "You'll fit right in."

*************

When they left the TARDIS in their 1913 finery to do a recce, they found they had landed on the outskirts of a decent-sized town. Their first stop was the pawnbroker's shop, where the Doctor traded in some items from the TARDIS attic for cash. As they left the pawn shop and walked down the main street, appetizing smells assailed them from a local saloon, and they realized how long it had been since breakfast. By stomach time, that is, not chronological time. After satisfying their hunger, they stopped at the newspaper office, the theatre, the railway station and the livery stable, where they hired a horse and wagon and two strong men. They clip-clopped back to the TARDIS, the Doctor at the reins, Harry and Sarah sharing the wooden seat with him, while their hired helpers rode in the bed of the wagon, their legs swinging off the back. The Doctor, Harry and the two men loaded the TARDIS onto the wagon and they headed back to the railway station.

The two men tipped their hats to the Doctor as he paid them, then sauntered away. The Doctor then bought them all tickets to Denver and paid to have the TARDIS shipped there as baggage. He supervised her being offloaded from the wagon onto the platform, then took the horse and wagon back to the stable, leaving Harry and Sarah to stand guard over his time ship. By the time he returned, on foot, the train to Denver had chugged into the station, and he supervised the TARDIS being loaded into one of the baggage cars. Once she was settled in, they all boarded the train. Sarah took a window seat, the Doctor sat beside her, and Harry took the window seat in the row in front of them.

"You didn't get us a compartment?" Harry asked.

"American-style trains don't have them," the Doctor said. "Just bunks in a sleeper car for overnight trips. And this trip only takes a few hours so we won't need that."

"So, what's the plan?" Sarah asked. "I take it we're going to Denver because we know, from the newspaper, the theatre manager, and Harpo's documents, that the Marx brothers are playing there for the next two weeks."

"Exactly," the Doctor agreed.

"But, once we get there, what then? Just follow them from show to show? Did they have groupies in 1913?"

The Doctor chuckled. "Not sure. But no, my idea was to get more on the inside than that."

"The inside of what?"

"Show business." The Doctor looked at them both with an impish grin. "We're about to become a vaudeville act."

Sarah felt a grin stretch itself across her face. She caught Harry's eye and saw the same grin reflected back at her. "Right. We. Are about to become a vaudeville act. He must mean you and him, Harry."

"No, no, I'm sure he means you and him, Sarah. You'd make a great double act."

"Doing what?" Sarah asked, eyebrows raised.

"Ahh...." Harry said. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, thinking. "I don't know. What does one do in a vaudeville act? If one isn't a Marx brother?"

"Well, actually," she answered. "Almost anything." She grinned as she remembered some of the more unusual acts she had come across in her reading about the Marx Brothers and their days in vaudeville. "Do you have a milk cow in the TARDIS, by chance, Doctor?"

His eyebrows shot up and his eyes grew round. "Erm, no."

"Shame, we could take her on stage and milk her while singing songs."

Harry leaned toward her. "That was a real act?" he asked.

"Um-hm," she said. "Or how about a cat piano?"

"A what?"

"A cat piano. A long cage, done up like a piano keyboard, only with cats in it."

"And how did you play this remarkable instrument?" Harry asked.

"You pulled the cats' tails that were sticking out one side of the cage."

"Couldn't get away with that in our time, could you? The RSPCA would be all over that."

"Oh, they weren't the real cats' tails, they were fake," Sarah assured him. "And the person playing the cat piano would meow the notes as he pulled the fake tails."

"I bet the moggies were still not best pleased," Harry said.

"No, I think the real yowling and hissing coming from the cage provided counterpoint!" Sarah laughed.

The Doctor shook his head. "No cats," he said. "There is a piano in the music room, but...no cats."

Sarah shook her head in mock disappointment. "And I don't suppose you have a singing duck either."

The Doctor and Harry both snorted a laugh. "No, Sarah," the Doctor said. "I don't have a singing duck."

"Does anyone?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Sarah said, grinning. "Gus Visser. Remind me to show you on Youtube when we get home. It's priceless."

"No livestock whatsoever on the TARDIS," the Doctor said. "Just us. What talents do we have that people would pay to see?" He gave Sarah a fond smile. "Sarah, you used to sing in the TARDIS."

"Oh, no, Doctor," she said, shaking her head. "Singing because you're happy, when you don't think anyone is listening," she added pointedly, "is nothing like singing in front of an audience."

"You didn't know I was listening?" he asked. She shook her head emphatically. "I was. And I liked your singing. Brightened up the TARDIS no end." She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling. "Well, Harry, how about you then? What hidden talents do you have?" the Doctor asked.

Harry looked thoughtful. "I used to cut a rug with the best of them," he said. "Sarah, what do you say? We could do the twist, the frug, the boogaloo, the funky chicken, the Freddy, the watusi, the loco-motion..." He stood up and stepped to the aisle, where he demonstrated a twist worthy of Chubby Checker.

"Enough, enough, enough. We get the picture. And no, we couldn't," Sarah laughed. "For one thing, it would be an anachronism." She looked over at the Doctor, who nodded his head and gave her a pleased smile. "And for another thing...well...just...not."

"Sacroiliac not up to it, old girl?" Harry grinned as he resumed his seat.

"Do you remember what I said about calling me old girl thirty years ago, Harry?" Sarah asked, giving him a dire look. Harry nodded, trying to squelch his grin and failing miserably. "Well, it goes double now." She relented and gave him a crooked smile. "And my sacroiliac is just fine, thank you for asking."

"It has held up well," Harry agreed, with an appreciative look in that direction.

She gave him a eyebrows-up _that's-enough-of-that_ glance. "Besides," she continued. "Song and dance acts are a dime a dozen. We'd have to be truly remarkable to get hired. Doctor?" She turned to him. "Did a fabulous singing voice come with this regeneration?"

He made a depreciating face. "I can belt out a tune if I have to," he said. "But I'm no Paul Robeson."

She tutted. "Who is?" Her face grew thoughtful. "Ooh, could we go to one of his concerts after we get the timeslip straightened out?"

The Doctor smiled. "I don't see why not. But let's do get it straightened out first."

"Oh, right," Sarah said, pulling herself back on track. "So. We need a somewhat unusual act, something they don't have already, to get them to hire us in mid-circuit." She looked over her shoulder toward the baggage car. "I don't suppose we can get into the TARDIS en route?" she asked.

"Could be a bit awkward," the Doctor said. "Can it wait?"

She nodded. "I just need to check Harpo's documents again and see what's already on the bill. And also see if possibly any acts dropped out or were fired."

"Creating an opening we could fill," Harry said, earning an approving nod from Sarah.

They all sat in silent thought for a few moments.

"Doctor," Harry and Sarah said simultaneously. They looked at each other and laughed.

"You go," Harry said.

"No, you go," she answered.

"Maybe we had the same idea," Harry said.

"We'll never know if one of you doesn't start," the Doctor said, a touch of exasperation in his voice.

They looked at each other again, and Harry said, "Alright, I'll go. What about a mentalist act? After all, Doctor, you really are telepathic. You would knock their socks off."

The Doctor screwed up his face in a dubious grimace and tugged at his earlobe. "I'm not really comfortable with that idea, Harry."

"Why not?" Sarah asked. "You'd be brilliant."

The Doctor sucked air through his teeth and then sighed out a breath with a shake of his head. "Every telepathic species I know of has very strong cultural taboos around when you can and can't reach into someone's mind. Time Lords aren't even all that telepathic." They started to protest and he held up a hand. "Speech is our primary means of communication, just like it is yours. That's not the case with true telepaths." He gave them a look from under raised brows. "But I was still brought up with very strict rules about when it was okay to go into someone's mind and when it wasn't. You just don't do that without permission."

"Well," Sarah said, thinking it out. "You could ask permission. Make it part of the act. _Con permesso_," she said with an elegant half-bow and a sweep of her hand, acting out her image for him.

"You'd have them eating out of your hand. Especially the ladies," Harry agreed.

"But that wouldn't exactly be informed consent, would it?" the Doctor said, giving them a penetrating look. "When they really have no idea what they're giving permission for?"

Sarah stared at him, thinking hard. "They'd be giving permission to be entertained by a mind reading act. So keep it on that level. Could you do that?"

He stared back at her. "Depends."

"On what?"

He waggled his head from side to side. "Lots of things. Whether they're at all telepathic. Some humans are. On how emotionally engaged they are. On how I'm feeling," he said, giving her a pointed look. "As Harry recalls, I'm sure."

Harry gave him a rueful smile at the reminder of the first time the Doctor had given him access to his mind as a means of diagnosing his injuries. "I survived," he said.

"Were you entertained?" the Doctor asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Harry pooched out his bottom lip. "I wouldn't have chosen that particular word, no," he said. "But it wasn't boring," he added with a wry smile.

The Doctor grunted a half-laugh.

"Do you have to actually touch someone to read his mind?" Harry asked.

The Doctor shook his head. "No. Only to go in depth. I can get surface thoughts if I just focus on someone. Usually."

"Well, there, that's perfect," said Sarah, not willing to give up. "Surface thoughts are all you need for a mentalist act, and that's not intruding beyond the surface permission you'll ask for."

The Doctor still didn't look very happy, but acknowledged her point with lifted eyebrows.

"Let's give it a try," Sarah said. She looked at Harry. "Can I borrow your watch?"

He unstrapped it from his wrist and handed it over. Sarah looked at it with furrowed brows. "Did they have wristwatches in 1913?"

The Doctor's features relaxed into a smile. "Yes. And fortunately that one isn't too obviously high-tech so Harry can go on wearing it."

"Good. Okay," she said. "Now, you focus on the watch--or at least look like you're focussing on the watch--and do your...thing with Harry."

The Doctor gave Harry a look. "Do you mind?" he asked.

"Go ahead. But it won't be much of a test, will it? Since you've been in my mind before?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I was never in your mind. You were in mine."

Harry digested that for a moment. "I guess there are fine points to this that we non-telepaths don't get."

The Doctor nodded, then, with a deep sigh, focussed on the watch that Sarah was holding up in time-tested glamorous assistant fashion.

"It was a gift. From...Marilyn," the Doctor said slowly. He paused a moment, his eyes going out of focus. "Your 25th anniversary."

"Spot on," Harry said.

The Doctor's eyes slowly came back into focus, and locked on to Harry's. "She was beautiful. Inside and out." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, she was," Harry agreed, his voice suddenly gone husky. He held the Doctor's gaze for a moment longer, then looked away.

The Doctor shook his head as if to clear it and ran his long fingers through his hair. "Blimey, Harry. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I told you," Harry said, his voice still rough.

The Doctor gave him a look, and Sarah saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. "Yeah, in a catching-up-on-the-past-thirty-years sort of way," he agreed. "But not..." He shook his head. "See. This is why this is not a good idea."

"It wasn't a fair test," Sarah said. "You know Harry. Wouldn't it be easier to keep it light with a total stranger?"

He looked at her, his brown eyes dark, his lips compressed. "Theoretically, yes. But let's see if we can come up with something else."


	5. Chapter 5

"Don't rule it out on my account, Doctor," Harry said, his voice nearly back to normal. "If I went to see a mentalist act and he did what you just did, I'd be blown away."

"You wouldn't feel...violated?" the Doctor asked, his nose wrinkled in distaste.

Harry shook his head. "Just amazed." He took in the Doctor's expression and smiled. "We non-telepaths don't have any taboos around something that's out of our realm of experience." He accepted his watch back from Sarah, and buckled it around his wrist.

The Doctor's features slowly relaxed. "Never thought about it that way. You're right." He rubbed his cheek for a moment, eyes unfocussed, and then snapped back to attention. "Right. Well. We'll keep it as a possibility. Were you going to suggest the same thing, Sarah, or did you have another idea?"

"I was remembering what you said when you got out of the handcuffs at the FarCor factory,*" Sarah answered. "Is that the only thing Houdini taught you?"

The Doctor's eyebrows lifted. "Actually, no."

Sarah waited a moment, then prompted him. "How much did he teach you?"

The Doctor gave her a cheeky grin. "His whole act."

"Doctorini!" Harry cried.

"Oh, I don't think we need to go that far," said the Doctor, giving Harry a quashing look.

"But you could do the act?" Sarah asked.

The Doctor tipped his head back, his bottom lip pooched out. "I'd need to brush up a bit. But yeah, I expect I could. Never tried it in this body, mind, but it's pretty flexible." He laced his long fingers together and stretched them forward, palms outward, arching his back. Then he relaxed, unlaced his fingers, and felt up and down his arms, giving himself an appraising look. "These long arms and legs might make some things a bit harder. But being slim will work in my favor." He looked thoughtful. "Never could have done it in my sixth body."

"Why not?" Sarah asked.

The Doctor lowered his voice. "Because I was a bit...pudgy," he said in a confidential tone.

Sarah only just managed to smother a laugh. "You?"

The Doctor nodded emphatically.

"Do you have any pictures?" Sarah asked.

"Not a one," the Doctor said. "I ran from cameras."

Sarah chuckled.

"What?" he asked.

"I was just picturing Time Lord photo albums. 'And here I am in my first body, and here I am in my second...'" she said.

"What body were you in when I first met you?" Harry asked. "I never thought to ask." He suddenly looked worried. "Or is that a rude question in Time Lord society?"

The Doctor smiled. "Not at all. Just a fact of life. I was in my third body when I met Sarah, and had just changed into my fourth when I met you, Harry."

"And you said you'd changed half a dozen times since then," Sarah said.

He nodded. "This is my tenth."

"No pictures of the sixth. How about the fifth, seventh, eighth and ninth?" Sarah asked. "Or do you always run from cameras?"

He looked at her with an amused expression. "Does it matter so much, what I looked like?"

"No," she said. "Just curious. You _are _the only person I know who changes bodies like humans change overcoats."

"Not quite that casually," he said. He stuck a hand in his pocket, then went in it up to his elbow. He was leaning over, nearly up to his shoulder in it, when he finally said, "Aha!" and pulled out a small metallic cube.

He held it out on his palm.

Sarah gave him a questioning look. "And that is...?"

"Time Lord photo album," he said. "Didn't you just say you wanted to see one?"

Her eyebrows shot up in pleased surprise. "I'd love to. How does it work?" she asked.

The Doctor looked quickly around the railroad car, double-checking that no other passengers had joined them, unnoticed, while they were talking. Then he pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, set it, and aimed a tight blue beam at the cube, holding it below the level of the seat. A three-dimensional image popped up.

"Rose!" Sarah said. "That's Rose, Harry."

Harry peered at the image. "Which one?"

She tipped her head forward and looked at him. "Which one do you think?"

"Oh, right. What was I thinking? The younger one, of course." Harry chuckled. "Who's the other one?"

"Rose's mum. Jackie," the Doctor said, not taking his eyes off Rose's image.

"So, the man must be her dad?" Sarah frowned and sucked air through her teeth as she looked at the photo. "Looks a bit rough. Hope he didn't take exception to your travelling with his little girl. Could have been dicey." She felt the Doctor's silence and glanced up to see him giving her a one-eyebrow-furrowed look. "Oh. That's never... Seriously?"

He nodded. "And Jackie was the one to watch out for. Oh, that woman had a slap." He rubbed his cheek.

"She slapped you?" He nodded. "Why?"

His lips twitched and he looked everywhere but in her eyes. "Erm, little...misunderstanding. A....time thing," he said dismissively.

They waited. He sighed. "I meant to bring Rose back twelve hours after we left on our first trip. Turned out to be more like..." He ducked his head and continued in a very small voice. "Twelve months."

"She didn't know Rose was with you?" He shook his head. "Her daughter just went missing for a year?" He nodded. "Oh, you earned that slap."

"I did, didn't I?" he said ruefully. He made another adjustment to the cube and a new image popped up.

"Now, that's a good face," Sarah said. "And I like your hair. Long but a bit less...wild than in the old days."

The Doctor smiled, and adjusted the cube.

Sarah's eyebrows went up at the new image that appeared. "Oh my," she said. "You weren't much taller than me then." She looked up at him. "When you change size so drastically, where does the rest of you go? Or come from?"

"Matter and energy are interchangeable," he answered. "Some of the regeneration energy becomes matter, or vice versa." He adjusted the cube once more.

Harry laughed when he saw the new image that popped up. "I didn't know you were a cricketer, Doctor."

The Doctor rubbed his jaw. "I was quite keen on it then. Haven't played in ages, though." He sonicked the cube again and the image vanished. He stuck the cube back in his side pocket, and tucked the sonic into his inside breast pocket.

"That's it?" Sarah asked, disappointed.

"Isn't that what you wanted to see?" he asked.

"Well, yes," she agreed. "But aren't there more?"

"More of me?" he asked, surprised. "Just my first and second bodies. You saw my third and fourth in person."

"Just more in general," she clarified.

He grinned. "Thousands. But I think we're about to pull into Denver, and we don't really want the conductor to see something he's not going to understand at all, do we?"

She looked out the window and saw that, while they had been looking at the Doctor's photo album, the empty countryside had given way to the outskirts of a city. Her mind came back to their mission. "So, where are we going to get locks, chains and handcuffs in 1913 Denver?"

Harry gave her an eyebrows-up look.

"For the act," she responded. "Remember?"

"Oh. Right," Harry said with a grin. "The act."

The Doctor stood up, swaying a bit with the motion of the train. "Not a problem," he said. "I have all that."

"You do?" she asked.

"Yup," he confirmed. "Even a straightjacket."

"Never travel without one myself," Harry agreed.

The Doctor grinned. "From when I studied with Houdini." He flexed his shoulders and his face grew thoughtful.

Harry noticed, and his face showed concern. "Shoulders still bothering you?" he asked.

"Hmm?" the Doctor said. "Oh, no. I was just thinking. Good thing I dislocated them."

"What?" Harry and Sarah both said, incredulous.

The Doctor looked at them with mild surprise. "Well, yes. Some of Harry's--the other Harry, Harry," he clarified.

"Let's just call him Houdini," Harry said.

The Doctor nodded. "I'll have to dislocate my shoulders to do some of Houdini's escapes. This body's still pretty new and tight," he said, rotating his shoulders. "I'd have had to do some serious stretching of the muscles and tendons to voluntarily knock my shoulders out of joint. Now I don't have to," he finished with a bright grin.

Sarah just shook her head. She looked over at Harry and saw the same look of wonder on his face that she could feel was on her own.

"Only you, Doctor," she said.

"Only me what?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Only you could find the good side in dislocating both of your shoulders," Harry answered for her.

The Doctor grinned even wider, tipped his head to one side, and clicked his teeth together. "That's me!"

*************

The Doctor was down the steps, off the train and onto the platform in two energetic bounds. He did a three-sixty, taking in the scene with a flashing grin.

Harry descended next. When he reached the platform, he turned to offer Sarah his hand. She just looked at him.

He grinned. "1913, Sarah. Gentlemen help ladies down from train cars."

The Doctor looked over his shoulder, saw what was going on, hurried back to the side of the train and offered Sarah a hand on the other side of the steps as well. "Besides, you're not used to those long skirts. Wouldn't want you to trip."

"The two of you," she said, shaking her head. She lifted her skirt a bit and climbed gracefully down to the platform without accepting either hand.

Harry looked at the Doctor and shook his head. "You can take the girl out of the twenty-first century...," he said.

"But you can't take the twenty-first century out of the girl," the Doctor agreed, grinning. "Well, we can just tell people she's a suffragette if she gets too independent."

Sarah's eyes grew wide. "Oh, we are right in that time period, aren't we?" An excited grin slowly spread itself across her face.

"Ah ah ah," cautioned the Doctor, one eyebrow raised. "Let's stay on track. Women _do _get the vote. You don't need to jump in and give it a push."

"Spoilsport." Sarah gave him a mischievous smile, and they headed off down the platform toward the freight cars to claim the TARDIS.

"What are we going to tell people about the TARDIS?" Sarah asked as they approached the baggage claim office.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why do we have to tell them anything about her?"

"Well," Sarah answered. "She is a rather...unusual piece of baggage."

"Ooh, don't let her hear you call her that," Harry laughed.

The Doctor laughed too, then answered Sarah. "We're show people. To the rest of the world, that's reason enough to explain anything odd we may have or do."

"OK." Sarah laughed. "That's probably true. So, what about the other show people? I'm sure they've never seen a baggage trunk like the TARDIS."

The Doctor mused for a moment. "They'll just chalk up anything odd we have or do to the fact that we're British. Well...you two are. And they'll assume I am too."

Harry laughed. "Too true. Still applies nearly a hundred years on, too!"

"And when we run into a British act?" Sarah asked. "There were a lot of them in American vaudeville, you know."

"We'll wing it," the Doctor said, giving her a _quit worrying_ eyebrow lift and a reassuring cheeky grin.

While the Doctor and Harry occupied the baggage clerk's attention, asking about theatrical boarding houses in Denver, Sarah discreetly ducked into the TARDIS and retrieved the handbill that Harpo had given her, which showed that the Marx troupe was playing the Orpheum. Given this information, the clerk assured them that most if not all of the players from the Orpheum stayed at May's boarding house, and gave them the address and directions.

"We should probably leave the TARDIS here until we know for sure the Marxes are there, and that there's a vacancy," Harry suggested. The Doctor agreed, tipped the baggage clerk generously to look after her until they called or sent for her, and they headed out into the city.

Sarah did take Harry's arm as they negotiated a busy street. Cars, horse-drawn vehicles, and trolleys all trundled by with very little regard for pedestrians, and she found her long, straight Edwardian skirt hampered her stride more than she'd anticipated.

"How did women put up with this?" she muttered as they finally reached a safe haven on the sidewalk. "Better yet, why did they?"

"To please their men, of course," Harry said, his eyes twinkling. "What other purpose does fashion have?"

"Hmph," Sarah snorted. "To keep women subjugated, more like."

"Hang on, Sarah. The miniskirt is coming." Harry grinned.

She gave him an incredulous look. "In fifty years! Fat lot of good that does me at the moment," she grumbled.

"Sarah." Harry bent his head to give her a direct look. "We're in 1913. In Denver, Colorado, USA. About to meet the Marx brothers. In vaudeville."

She returned his look, and felt a grin of delight erase her stormy frown. "Thanks, Harry. I needed that!" She squared her shoulders and smiled at the Doctor, who had stopped a few paces ahead and was looking back over his shoulder, waiting for them to catch up. Once they did, they all proceeded down the street, letting Sarah set the pace. She had to admit to herself, after a few moments, that it was rather nice not having to jog to keep up with the Doctor, for a change.

When they arrived at May's Boarding House, the Doctor started straight up the walk to the front door until Harry called him back.

"Doctor, I know it's more your style to just breeze in and act like you own the place," Harry said with a wry grin as the Doctor returned to within earshot of a quiet conversation. "And you usually get away with it. But maybe we should do a little planning before we go in there and try to get a room for the three of us."

"Planning?" the Doctor asked, eyebrows up. "What sort?"

"Well, I don't think they're going to rent a room to two single men and a single lady. Unless you want to tell them that we'll actually be sleeping in the TARDIS. And I seriously doubt that would be a good move if we want to blend in to the local scene."

"Harry, vaudeville acts frequently shared rooms. Piled four or more to a bed to save money," Sarah said.

"Men and women? Together? In 1913?" he asked, eyebrows up.

She thought a moment, then quirked her lips to one side. "Maybe not."

Harry nodded. "And we don't want Sarah in a separate room, without access to us or the TARDIS. Do we?"

The Doctor and Sarah exchanged glances, then looked back at Harry and shook their heads. "Wouldn't do my reputation a bit of good to be seen sneaking into your room at all hours of the day and night," Sarah agreed with a grin.

"Or, if we put the TARDIS in your room, for us to be caught sneaking in there."

"Just as bad for me," Sarah agreed.

"Better not to have to do any sneaking," the Doctor said.

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "And we can fix all that by adding one little detail to Sarah's costume. Doctor, do you happen to have a plain gold band in those capacious pockets of yours?"

The Doctor dug deep, and came up with a ring. He peered at it. "Will silver do?"

"She deserves gold," Harry said, giving Sarah a warm smile.

"Silver's fine," she said. "Or we can call it white gold."

"It's actually a bio-damper," said the Doctor. "And white gold hasn't been invented yet." He handed the ring to Harry, who held out his hand to Sarah. She hesitated a moment, then gave him her left hand and watched him slip the bio-damper on her ring finger.

"With this ring," Harry said formally. "I thee legitimize."

She snorted. "Thanks. So, am I Mrs. Sullivan or are you Mr. Smith? And who's the Doctor?"

Harry looked the Doctor up and down. "Our son, of course." He caught Sarah's look, and quickly grinned and added, "You were a child bride."

Sarah looked at the Doctor. "So, you're John Sullivan for the duration? Or are we all Smiths together?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Whatever. You decide."

"Hmm, Sarah Sullivan. Harry Smith," Harry said, rolling the names around on his tongue to get a feel for them. "I vote we all be Sullivans," he said.

"Poke me if I forget," Sarah said with a grin.

"Better believe I will," Harry said.

"Are we ready now?" the Doctor asked, a bit impatiently. They nodded, and the three of them headed up the walkway to May's.

"You're good at this, Harry," Sarah said. "How'd you get so devious?"

"You don't think I became deputy director of MI5 without doing some undercover work, do you?" he responded.

Sarah heard the silvery tinkle of a bell as they stepped into the boarding house. She swiveled her head to locate the source of the sound, at which the Doctor grinned and reached a long arm up to flick the little bell that hung over the door frame, making it tinkle again.

"Alright, then, alright, I'm coming," came a disembodied voice. "No need to ring again."

"Eliza Doolittle?" Harry asked quietly with a grin.

"What was it we were going to do if we ran into someone from England who also knows show people?" Sarah asked the Doctor softly, also grinning.

"Wing it," he said, _sotto voce._ He then turned the full focus of his incandescent smile on the owner of the Eliza Doolittle voice as she appeared from a doorway off to their left. "Hullo, I'm the Doctor," he said, stepping forward, taking her small hand and enveloping it in both of his.

"No one's called for a doctor," she said, leaning back to look up at him. She was a tiny woman, coming up to about Sarah's chin, with grey hair collected in a bun at the nape of her neck and elaborate grey curls emerging from a ruffled gingham cap and surrounding her lined face.

"That's his stage name," said Harry. "He likes to use it all the time."

"Good publicity, you know," the Doctor agreed, holding her hand for another moment and giving her the full benefit of his megawatt charm.

"Ah, you're an act, then! And from back home!" she added with delight as their accents registered. "Where are you from then, ducks?"

They quickly exchanged glances. "London," Sarah said.

"But we travel a lot," the Doctor added quickly.

"Well, you do when you're in variety, don't you?" she agreed. Her eyes grew a bit misty. "How well I remember." She looked them over more closely. "I don't suppose you ever saw me then? May's Marvelous Musicians?"

The Doctor shook his head regretfully. "Never had the pleasure."

"Oh, you!" she giggled. "You'd have just been a little lad at the time. I was more speaking to your...." She trailed off as she looked from Harry to Sarah and then back to the Doctor.

"Ah yes. This is Harry, and this is Sarah Jane." The little lady bobbed a courtesy to Harry and nodded at Sarah. "And, you're May?" the Doctor asked.

"That's me," she agreed. "Got too old for the life, so now I feed and house them what's still in it. Will you be needing a room then?" She walked around behind the polished oak counter that stood to their right, across from the door, and shuffled the leaves of a large book that sat open on it. "We're nearly full up at the moment, but I could likely squeeze you in."

"Busy season?" Sarah asked, nonchalantly.

May nodded. "The Pantages circuit is in town. You know the Pantages circuit?"

Sarah nodded. "And they all stay here?" She smiled encouragement. "You must be the best."

"Well." May ducked her chin but her smile showed how pleased she was with the compliment. "I try to take care of my boarders. And they do come back, year after year, season after season, so I reckon I must do right by them."

"The Marx boys," Sarah said. "Are they staying here?"

"Oh, their whole troupe is! They take up the whole first seating." May gave her a sharp look. "You know the Marxes?"

"Just by reputation," Sarah said. "I'm looking forward to seeing their act."

"They can be wild boys, but they're good to me. Call me Ma, they do. I think they miss their own ma when they're on the road."

"I'm sure they do," Sarah said with a knowing smile. "They're Minnie's boys."

"Minnie's not with them this trip," May said. "I think that's why they're a bit wild." She consulted the check-in book again. "One room then? Or two?" she asked, peering at them inquisitively.

"One, please," Harry said. "Trying to make the money go as far as possible," he added in a confidential tone. "We haven't actually managed to find a job yet."

She nodded understandingly. "I could let you have 37B. Third floor, around the back." She gestured toward the narrow staircase that led up from the small lobby.

"Ah, yes," the Doctor said, looking at it with furrowed brows. "Well. We have a rather...unusual trunk. It's...big. Carries everything, really marvellous, only need the one piece of baggage for all three of us, props, costumes, everything, but it is....big." He looked at the stairs and shook his head. "I don't think she'll fit up those stairs."

"How big is it then?" May asked.

The Doctor stretched his arms out to the sides, miming the width of the TARDIS, then held a hand about a foot over his head and glanced from it to the floor to give her an idea of the height. May's eyebrows shot up. "You could walk into something that size!" she said.

The Doctor pooched out his bottom lip and waggled his head from side to side thoughtfully. "You could," he agreed.

"If it weren't full of our belongings," Sarah added quickly. "Props and costumes and such, you know."

"Well," May said, shuffling more pages. "I do have a ground floor room. I usually keep it in reserve unless we're right full up, in case someone special shows up." She gave them an apologetic glance. "You know. A headliner." She then gave them a beaming smile. "Still and all, who's to say you won't be headliners soon? What kind of act do you do?"

"He's an escape artist," Harry said with a nod toward the Doctor. "Like Houdini. And we're his assistants."

"Oooh, I'd be careful with that," May said. "I've heard he comes down hard on imitators."

The Doctor smiled. "I don't think he'll mind. Considering he taught me the act."

May's eyes widened. "Houdini himself? Taught you his secrets?"

Laugh lines appeared around the Doctor's eyes as his smile broadened. "Not all of them. But enough. I hope."

"Well, then, friends of the great Houdini can definitely have the ground floor room!" May said. "And can you put in a word for me with him? Next time he plays Denver? Oh, what a feather in my cap that would be, to have Houdini himself stay here!"

******

Sarah stayed behind, chatting with May and rearranging the furniture to make room for the TARDIS, while Harry and the Doctor went back to the railroad station and hired a wagon and two burly men to help bring the Doctor's space and time ship to the boarding house. When they arrived, the TARDIS standing tall in the bed of the wagon, Sarah and May went out to meet them.

"That's your baggage trunk?" May asked in astonishment.

"Yeah, told you it was a bit unusual," the Doctor said, his voice strained as he helped manhandle the seeming police box toward the back of the wagon. "Got a jolly good price on it, though. The police were selling some old ones off."

"What police where?" May asked.

"London police. In London," Sarah replied. She gave May a questioning look. "How long has it been since you've been home?"

May looked at the TARDIS and blinked a few times. "Too long, I reckon. Didn't have anything like this then, and now they're selling off old ones already!"

There was a tricky moment when it looked like the TARDIS wasn't going to fit through the door, but the Doctor gave her a stern talking-to, telling her in no uncertain terms to suck it in, and on the next try, she slipped through with a micrometer to spare. The hired helpers stared at him, boggle-eyed. He waggled his eyebrows at them, then gave them a sweeping theatrical bow. "Come see the rest of the act at the Orpheum," he said. "As soon as we get hired," he added quietly to Sarah, who grinned.

Once the TARDIS was safely ensconced in the corner of their room, Harry flopped down on the bed with a sigh. He popped right back up again and turned to glower at the mattress.

"That's certainly no Royal-Pedic," he said. "Glad we don't actually have to sleep on it."

Sarah plopped down next to him and gave a test bounce. The test failed. No bounce. "Too right," she agreed. "The TARDIS for me."

"Is that door locked?" the Doctor asked, indicating the room door with his eyebrows.

Sarah got up and checked. "Doesn't seem to be lockable," she said after a moment.

The Doctor strode over, checked it, pulled out his sonic screwdriver and gave the locking mechanism and the hinges each a blue blast. Then he turned the doorknob and pulled, and gave Sarah a cheeky grin when it didn't open. "That's what they'd like you to think," he said. He strode back across the room and opened the TARDIS doors, beckoning them to follow with a wave of his hand. "_Allons-y!_ We have work to do."

Sarah and Harry followed him up the ramp, through the console room, through a series of coral archways, to a room as enormous as the wardrobe, but lined with books instead of clothes. They stood back as the Doctor pulled a large trunk out away from the wall. He knelt in front of it, opened it and let the lid fall back, then started digging. The first thing to come out of it was a book, which he looked at with a frown. "Meant to reshelve that ages ago," he muttered, then placed it carefully on the upside-down lid. Digging in again, he pulled an assortment of shackles, chains, manacles, handcuffs, ropes, and leather straps out of the trunk, piling them on the floor. Next he leant forward into the trunk, his head, shoulders, and upper body disappearing into it in a way that defied the laws of physics.

Harry glanced at Sarah and shook his head. "Time Lords do love that bigger-on-the-inside technology, don't they?"

She grinned. "Wouldn't say no to a handbag with it," she said. "As long as it cancels out the weight of everything you put in it."

"Not everything," the Doctor grunted as he tugged at a bulky item in the depths of the trunk. "But enough to make it manageable." With a final pull, a straight jacket popped out of the trunk and joined the assortment of restraints on the floor. "Or it would have taken considerably more than four of us to move the TARDIS."

"I thought maybe she had a...hand...or whatever she has...in that," Harry said.

"Well," the Doctor said, standing and dusting himself down. "She can help the process along. If she feels like it. Not sure she's quite forgiven me yet for putting her in reverse, though."

"Hard-hearted old thing," Sarah said.

They all felt a tremor pass through the floor of the TARDIS, and Harry's eyes went big. "Sarah!" he hissed at her.

"Well, he took more damage from that than she did," Sarah said, not backing down.

"How do you know?" the Doctor asked her, his voice gentle.

"I saw what it did to you," Sarah answered.

"Exactly. And you didn't see what it did to her," he pointed out.

"Well," Sarah said. Her eyes softened and her lips quirked to one side in reluctant agreement.

"Good," the Doctor said with a sunny smile. "Can't have you two not getting along. Now....to work." He bent down and picked up a pair of old-fashioned looking handcuffs. "Let's start with the basics. Sarah, this is a pair of handcuffs."

She crossed her arms, tipped her head on one side, and gave him her best _how thick do you think I am?_ look.

"Too basic?" he asked with the hint of a grin.

"Maybe a bit," she confirmed drily.

"Know how they work?" he asked. She nodded. "Put them on me then." He handed her the cuffs and held out his hands.

She snapped the cuffs around his wrists and stood back.

"Tighter, Sarah Jane," he chided her. "I could slide my hands right out of them like that."

"I didn't want to hurt you," she said.

"I'll let you know if that happens."

She tightened the cuffs around his wrists and looked at him with eyebrows questioning.

"Is that the best you can do? Do I need to put Harry on the job?" he asked, sounding serious.

She gave him an exasperated look and squeezed the cuffs again, forcing them to tighten another notch.

"Good," he said, making his hands into fists and testing the chain that linked them with a few good tugs. "Now. See that set?" He indicated another pair of manacles that rested on the floor by his feet. Sarah followed his gaze. "Pick them up," he said.

She bent down to oblige and then stood back up with the manacles in hand. She looked at the Doctor. His arms were free, and he was swinging the handcuffs that had imprisoned him around one finger nonchalantly.

Her eyes went wide. "How did you..." she gasped.

"Me? I didn't do anything. You must have put them on wrong," the Doctor said, his eyebrows drawn down, his lips twitching. "Try again."

Sarah gave him a look, then put the cuffs back on his wrists. She didn't have to be told twice to tighten them down as far as they would go this time.

"That's better. Now put the others on, too."

The manacles worked a bit differently from ordinary handcuffs, but after a moment she figured them out and latched them around the Doctor's wrists, above the first set.

"Good. That should hold me," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Now. Could you please pick up those leg irons. The ones just there," he said, nodding toward some heavy shackles joined by a longer chain.

Sarah started to bend down to pick them up, then quickly straightened and looked at him. His eyebrows went up and he gave her his very best picture-of-innocence expression. She bent down again, picked up the leg irons, stood up and found the Doctor once more with arms free, grinning hugely and swinging both the handcuffs and the manacles around his finger.

Sarah looked over at Harry, who was giving her a Chessie-cat grin. "Alright then. You're supposed to mystify the audience, not your assistant," she said.

"You _are _my audience at the moment, Sarah Jane," the Doctor said, laugh lines showing at the corners of his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

"Oh, that just looks...miserable," Sarah Jane said, standing back and frowning at the Doctor, her nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Does it?" the Doctor asked brightly. He stood before her, bent nearly double, his elbows hooked around an iron bar that was behind his back, his wrists shackled in front of his body, his ankles manacled together, and a short, heavy chain attaching the wrist restraints to the ankle restraints, preventing him from straightening up. "Good!" Her eyebrows went up and he craned his neck at her and grinned. "Doesn't really make it any harder to get loose, but the audience won't know that. And the worse it looks the more impressed they'll be." He made a sweeping motion with his head. "This is where you'll move the screen in front of me." Sarah and Harry went through the motions, miming moving a screen. "With panache!" the Doctor coached them. Sarah threw back her head, smiled broadly at the imagined audience and gave a flourish of her hand, earning an approving grin from him.

Once they had worked their way through all of the mechanical restraints, and the Doctor had demonstrated his mastery of them, they moved on to the ropes.

"Harry, did they teach you how to tie knots in the Navy?" the Doctor asked.

"What do you think?" Harry answered.

The Doctor grinned. "Let's see if you can tie some I can't undo."

"My choice? No trick knots you want me to use?" Harry asked.

"Harry," the Doctor said, sounding mildly horrified. "That would be cheating."

Harry gave him an _okay, you asked for it!_ look, picked up a coil of rope, pulled his wrists behind his back and lashed them together. Then he knelt at the Doctor's feet and tied his ankles together. Standing back up, he lowered the Doctor to the floor, positioning him on his side, and ran a rope up from his ankles and around his neck, pulling it tight enough to force the Doctor to bend his knees to keep from being throttled. Once he finished, Harry stood back and surveyed his handiwork

"Oh, well done, Harry," the Doctor said, his voice a bit strangled as he tested the ropes and the one around his neck tightened.

"Harry," Sarah said, sounding more than mildly horrified. "That's awful! Where did you learn to do a thing like that to someone?"

Harry just tucked in his chin and give her a look out of the tops of his eyes.

"Never mind, I don't want to know," Sarah said in response.

The Doctor managed to free himself from the ropes, much to Harry's amazement, and they worked on other ties for a bit, until the Doctor proclaimed himself satisfied with his own remembered skills and his assistants' performance. He then had them strap him into the straightjacket, and lower him to the floor.

"Do we put the screen in front of you for this one?" Sarah asked.

"No, you just stand there and look lovely and amazed," the Doctor said, grimacing a bit as he began his struggle for freedom. "Houdini started out doing this one out of sight but Hardeen found out it was more impressive when the audience could actually see what he was going through."

"Hardeen?"

"Houdini's brother. Has his own act. Never makes it quite as big as his brother for some reason. Not quite the showman Houdini is." This information was punctuated by grunts and gasps, as the Doctor wriggled and strained inside the straight jacket.

Harry picked up the book from the inside of the trunk lid, flipped the lid shut, and sat down on it. Sarah looked at him and he scooted over and patted the trunk lid in invitation. She sat down next to him, rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, and watched the Doctor intently, unconsciously chewing on her bottom lip in sympathy with his struggles.

Harry was leafing through the book.

"Doctor," he said.

"Yes, Harry," the Doctor gasped. He had managed to get one arm out from under the other and buy himself a bit of slack, which he was now straining to exploit.

"This book."

"Mmm hmm," the Doctor responded, rolling back and forth on the floor, grimacing with effort.

"It's about Houdini."

The Doctor quit struggling for a moment, fixing Harry with a penetrating stare. "That's why I had it in my Houdini trunk," he said. "Any more questions?"

"Well, yes, actually," Harry said. "The copyright date is 2010."

The Doctor went back to work on his escape. "And?" he gritted out.

"And it's autographed. By Houdini."

"Harry, have I mentioned I travel in time?" The Doctor was starting to sound a bit less than his usual cheery self.

"I thought you didn't tell people their own futures."

"I didn't let him read it, I just asked him to sign it." the Doctor explained.

"Did he see the copyright date?"

"Yes," the Doctor said, as he struggled to work his long legs through the circle made by the sleeves of the restraint, which still held his arms captive. "And he was right chuffed that people were still writing about him a century on."

Harry raised his eyebrows and leafed through the book some more, leaving the Doctor to get on with his escape from the straightjacket in peace. For a few minutes, anyway.

"Doctor."

The Doctor stopped thrashing about and lay still, breathing hard. "Yes, Harry."

"It says in here that Houdini claimed no jail could hold him. He'd challenge the local police to lock him up in a cell and then he'd break out as a publicity stunt."

The Doctor just looked at him. Harry continued. "They'd strip search him to be sure he didn't have a lock pick or anything hidden somewhere on him. And then they'd leave his clothes in a different locked cell. So he'd have to get out of the first cell, stark naked, and then go get into the cell where his clothes were before he could get dressed and leave." Harry looked up from the book and met the Doctor's eyes. "You planning to do anything like that?"

The Doctor's eyebrows were up. "No, Harry," he said.

"Be good publicity," Harry said in a studiedly off-hand manner, his lips twitching.

"No, Harry," the Doctor repeated. "Just....no." He went back to struggling with the straight jacket.

"Well, if you won't do that one," Harry said, ignoring the look of daggers that came at him from the floor. "How about jumping off a bridge while wrapped in chains? Looks like that was a pretty good attention-getter for the show, too."

"Considering I tend to sink, even without benefit of chains, I don't think that one will be on the agenda either," the Doctor rasped out.

"You can't swim?" Sarah asked.

The Doctor relaxed again, staring at the ceiling for a moment while catching his breath. "Given that Time Lords are denser than humans, and that I can manage considerably longer than you without oxygen, it would actually be easier for me to walk along the bottom of the river to the bank than to swim there. Which might cause more publicity, and the wrong kind of publicity, than we really want to stir up. But yes, Sarah Jane, I can swim, if I have to. Much better without chains, however."

"Ah," Harry said, consulting the book again. "Then how about being hung upside down by your ankles several stories up in the high street in a straight jacket and freeing yourself?"

"Now that one," the Doctor said, as he gave a last powerful wriggle, pulled free of the straight jacket and tossed it to the side, "I could do."

"Oh, well done," said Sarah Jane, beaming and clapping her hands.

He stood up, took a bow, and then pulled a cloth handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped the sweat from his face. He arched his back, massaged his shoulders and neck, and grimaced. "That one's just plain hard work," he said.

"Worked up an appetite?" Sarah asked. "It's probably time for our seating by now."

"Our seating?" Harry asked.

"Yes, didn't I mention? May said we'll be in the second seating for meals."

"We could just eat in the TARDIS," Harry said.

Sarah Jane leaned over and bumped him with her shoulder. "C'mon, Harry. Don't you want to know what food tastes like in 1913?"

He thought about it for a moment, then brightened. "Probably better. No chemical additives and artificial ingredients." He looked thoughtful, then concerned. "No reliable refrigeration, either."

Sarah gave him an exasperated look. "Worry wort. We'll be fine. Besides, we have to mingle with the other guests, get to know them. Could help us get hired on."

"Good thinking, Sarah Jane," said the Doctor, and she beamed at the praise.

They headed out of the TARDIS and back into the boarding house room. The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and briefly beamed it at the door hinges and lock, then pulled the door open.

They all froze, wide-eyed, at the sight that greeted them.

A man in uniform stood, a fire axe frozen in mid-swing, aimed at their door. Or rather, where their door had been before they opened it. Now the axe was aimed squarely at the Doctor. May stood off to one side, her eyes round, her mouth open, likewise frozen in place. Half a dozen people filled the hallway, staring intently at them.

"Hullo, I'm the Doctor," the Doctor said, addressing himself to the man with the axe. "Can I help you with something?"

"Wha....bu....I....." sputtered May, as the man lowered the axe to his side and the spectators in the hallway drifted off, chuckling and shaking their heads. "That door would not open!"

"This door?" the Doctor asked, looking at it and swinging it gently back and forth on its hinges. "Why, it doesn't even lock."

"I know it doesn't!" May said, her voice going a bit shrill. "Why wouldn't it open, then?"

"Why did you want it to open?" asked the Doctor, all big-eyed innocence.

"I didn't," she said, suddenly sounding defensive. "I just knocked on the door, to let you know it was supper time. And you didn't answer. And I saw you go in there, with that big blue box of yours, and didn't see you come out, so I knew you had to be in there. And when you didn't answer my knock, I...well....I thought maybe there was something wrong, so I went to open it, just a crack like, to peek in and make sure you were alright, and..."

"And the door stuck, May," said the fireman. "That's all." He reached out and pulled the door to, closing it in the faces of the time travellers. They exchanged quick glances, then all presented wide, innocent eyes to the front as he opened it again. "Working fine now."

"That door was more than stuck," May insisted. "You couldn't even take it off its hinges, Josh!"

"They were stuck too," Josh said, shrugging his shoulders. He looked directly at the Doctor, then Harry and Sarah Jane in turn. "Sorry to bother you folks."

"No bother," the Doctor smiled. Josh tipped his cap to them and sauntered off down the hall, his axe over his shoulder.

"Supper time, you said?" the Doctor asked May. "Have we missed it?"

"No, it's still....." May answered automatically. Then she looked sharply at him. "Here, why didn't you answer the door? We were pounding on it for a right good while, and shouting to wake the dead."

"Ah." The Doctor glanced at Sarah Jane and Harry, who just looked back at him with studiedly neutral expressions. "Sound sleepers. Been a long day. Thought we'd take a nap before supper."

Sarah Jane and Harry nodded. "Sound sleepers," Sarah agreed.

"Family trait," Harry said.

May looked askance at them all. "I should say," she muttered.

"Dining room?" the Doctor asked, glancing down the hall.

"Just off the lobby, to the right," May answered.

"Thank you." He turned to his companions. "Shall we?"

They trouped out of the room and down the hall. Sarah glanced over her shoulder after a few steps and saw May, staring at the door to their room as she opened and shut it repeatedly.

"That went well," Sarah said softly.

"Who ever heard of a hotel room door that doesn't lock?" Harry asked, also quietly enough to only be heard by the other two.

"It's a more innocent age, Harry," the Doctor answered.

"Good thing the TARDIS locks," Sarah said.

"A very good thing," the Doctor agreed with a grin as they reached the door of the dining room.

They found three seats together at one end of the long table. Sarah sat next to a dark-haired young man with wire-framed glasses who was peering intently into a book as he ate. The book was clearly more the focus of his attention than the food. Sarah glanced over at him, thinking to ask him to pass one of the serving dishes, but then smiled and decided not to disturb his reading. She looked away, then froze for a moment before glancing surreptitiously back at him. She clutched Harry's forearm as he reached for the potatoes.

Harry saw the look on her face. "What?" he asked quietly. She tipped her head subtly toward the young man and his book. Harry leaned forward a touch so he could look around her at the man. His gaze came back to Sarah's wide eyes and he shrugged a question.

"Groucho," Sarah mouthed.

Harry's eyebrows shot up, and he leaned out again to peer at the man more closely. He leaned back and gave Sarah a questioning look. "You sure?" he said softly.

She nodded vigorously. After a moment, she grinned hugely and squeezed Harry's arm again. "Groucho!" she mouthed again, followed by a silent scream of delight.

Harry grinned at her, and elbowed the Doctor to get his attention. He was dishing up a bowl of a thick brown soup, but glanced over at them. Sarah shot her eyes left, to Groucho, then back at the Doctor, who glanced at Groucho, then back at Sarah. He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, then passed the soup tureen to Harry. Harry ladled some into his bowl, then passed it on to Sarah, who did likewise.

"Erm," she said tentatively, eyes down. Groucho didn't look up. She cleared her throat rather loudly, and he finally pulled his nose out of the book and looked at her. "Soup?" she asked.

"No thanks," he said, and went back to reading.

Sarah put the soup tureen down on the table, then turned to Harry. She squeezed his forearm again, harder this time.

"Ow," he said softly. "Ease up there, Sarah." He took in her wide-eyed, hard-suppressed excitement and laughed quietly. "And don't forget to breathe."

She followed his advice, taking a deep breath and then blowing it out.

Harry gave her a smile that held equal parts amusement and encouragement, then turned back toward the Doctor to accept a serving platter from him. He helped himself to a slice of meat from it, then looked at Sarah.

"Care for some, dear?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

Sarah gave him a warning look, which dissolved quickly into a cheeky smile. "Deer?" she asked. "Is that what it is?"

Harry grinned, and out of the corner of her eye Sarah saw Groucho glance up from his book.

"No, I think it's buffalo," Harry said seriously, as he held up a slice for closer inspection.

Sarah grinned. "You sure? Looks like pronghorn to me."

"Antelope?" Harry said doubtfully. He frowned at it and shook his head. "Maybe wapiti."

"You folks aren't from around here, are you?" Groucho said, his lips twitching as he fought a grin.

Sarah turned to him and smiled. "What gave us away?"

"They only serve wapiti on Thursdays in Denver," Groucho said seriously.

"Ah," Harry said. "And it's not Thursday." It was halfway between a statement and a question, and Groucho searched their faces with a curious air.

"We've been travelling," Sarah said. "Kind of lost track of the days."

"That can happen when you've been on a circuit long enough," Groucho said agreeably. "It's Monday. Last I checked."

"So," Sarah said, glancing at the mystery meat. "What _do _they serve in Denver on Mondays?"

"Unicorn." Three sets of startled eyes stared down the table at the Doctor. He took another bite, chewed it thoughtfully. "Definitely unicorn," he said.

"Oh, seriously now," Sarah Jane said. "Let me taste."

The Doctor cut off a piece, speared it with his fork, and, reaching across Harry, fed it to Sarah.

She chewed, and her eyebrows went down. "Not unicorn," she said definitely.

"No?" the Doctor asked, surprised.

She chewed a bit more. "Gryffin," she finally declared.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. He picked up his knife and fork, cut a piece off the meat on his plate, and put it in his mouth.

They all--Groucho included--stared as he chewed. "Not unicorn."

"No?" the Doctor said.

Harry shook his head, then looked sorrowfully at Sarah. "Not gryffin."

"You sure?" she said plaintively.

He shook his head, chewed a bit more. "Dragon. Definitely dragon." He considered, then went on. "Or maybe sea serpent. They're very similar."

"True," the Doctor agreed. "Although sea serpent tends to be fishier."

"Salt water, yes," Harry agreed. "Fresh, less so."

"True," the Doctor agreed again.

Sarah glanced around the table and saw lots of eyes staring their way, spoons and forks arrested midway between plate and mouth. She glanced over at Groucho with an apologetic smile.

"Comedy act, eh?" Groucho asked.

"Actually," Sarah said. "The Doctor...our..." She stuttered over the 's' word and couldn't quite get it to come out. "Our John..." That she could manage. "...is an escape artist. And we're his assistants," she finished brightly, pointing at herself and Harry. "I'm Sarah Jane Sm..oh!" She jumped as Harry gave her a sharp poke in the ribs. "Sullivan. Sarah Jane Sullivan."

"And I'm Harry Sullivan," Harry said, reaching across Sarah to shake hands with Groucho. "And this is our son, John, but everyone calls him the Doctor."

"The escape doctor?" Groucho asked, half-standing and reaching across to shake hands with the Doctor.

"Just the Doctor," the Doctor said.

"Pleased to meet you all," Groucho said. "I'm Julius Marx."

"That's right, May said you and your brothers were staying here," Sarah said, smiling. Then her eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown. "But I thought she said you were in the first seating for meals. Isn't this the second?"

Groucho gave her a lopsided grin and nodded at the people around the table. "There's only room for twenty at a seating," he said. "And since there are twenty-one of us..."

"Twenty-one Marx brothers?" Harry interrupted, astonished.

"Oh, Harry," Sarah said with an affectionate laugh.

Groucho laughed too. "No, only four brothers. Twenty-one in our troupe. So if you're late, you wait."

"And Jack London made you odd man out tonight?" Harry said, glancing at the book that Groucho had set aside.

Groucho gave him a sharp look, then nodded, his eyes defensive.

"Good job I never had a commanding officer like Wolf Larsen," Harry said. "I never would have stuck it with the Navy."

Groucho's eyes went wide and lost their defensiveness in a heartbeat. "You've read _The Sea Wolf_?" he asked, sounding both hopeful and incredulous.

Harry blew out his lips with a deprecating puff of air. "Practically required reading on Her Majesty's Service," he said. "Have you read _White Fang_ and _Call of the Wild_? Those are my favorites. When I was in Alaska...."

Groucho's eyes went even wider. "You've been to Alaska?" he broke in.

Harry nodded.

"Panning for gold?" Groucho asked, dead serious.

Harry laughed. "I wish. Early days in the Navy."

Groucho leaned forward, book and meal forgotten. "What was it like?"

"Have you read his Alaska stories?" Harry asked, glancing toward the book again. Groucho nodded eagerly. "Well, there's nothing I can add to his descriptions. They're bang on. Half-wild wolfish-looking dogs wandering the streets, half-mad humans with beards out to here..." Harry's hands added the image of a very full and bushy beard to his own face. "...appearing out of the bush after a year with no human contact..."

Sarah glanced across Harry at the Doctor as Harry spun his tale of Jack London's Alaska for his rapt one-man audience. The Doctor looked up from his plate, caught her eye, gave her a grin and a perfect "Dad's at it again with his stories" look, then went back to eating.

"Doctor?" Harry interrupted his storytelling to look at the Doctor quizzically.

"Mmm?" the Doctor replied, turning his head to look at Harry.

"You packed some of Jack London's books, didn't you?"

The Doctor considered. "I think so. Which ones haven't you read, Mr. Marx?"

"Oh please, it's Julius," Groucho said. "And I've only read some of his short stories, _The Call of the Wild,_ and _White Fang_ so far. Well," he said, indicating the book on the table, "and half of _The Sea Wolf _here."

"I'll have to check and see what I packed. Perhaps you could stop by our room when you have some free time?"

Groucho's eyes lighted up. "I'd love to. Thanks."

"Oh, and Mr. Marx. Julius," Sarah corrected herself with a smile in response to his raised eyebrows. "Do you know who we'd talk to about getting on the bill at the Orpheum?"

Groucho looked apologetic. "The circuit sets the bill before the tour begins," he said. "They don't generally add anyone midway through."

"No one has...dropped out or needed to be replaced for one reason or another?" Harry asked hopefully.

Groucho shook his head. "No." He paused, then added, "Not yet anyway."

The Doctor, Harry and Sarah all leaned forward a bit and looked at him with wide eyes.

Groucho grinned crookedly. "There is one fellow who's on thin ice with the manager. He's been....sick....a lot." He curled the fingers of his left hand, stuck out his thumb and raised it to his lips, miming taking a drink.

"Ah," said Harry.

"What's his act?" the Doctor asked.

"He plays the banjo and recites Shakespeare."

The Doctor's eyebrows floated up. "Simultaneously?" he asked.

Groucho grinned. "No, he alternates. He's actually quite good." He made a rueful face. "Except when he's....sick, of course. Then both the banjo playing and Shakespeare go downhill."

"Poor fellow," Sarah said. "He should be in rehab."

Groucho gave her a quizzical look. "Rehab?" he asked, tasting the unfamiliar word.

Harry jumped in quickly. "That's what we call sanitariums in England. Sometimes," he added, with a warning look at Sarah.

"Right, sorry, still learning your Americanisms," Sarah said with a smile. Then she sobered. "The point is, he needs help. I wouldn't feel right taking his job away from him."

"Might be just what he needs to straighten himself out," Harry suggested.

Groucho nodded. "Don't worry about that, Mrs. Sullivan," he said.

"Please. Sarah."

He smiled and continued. "Sarah. If Sam isn't ready to fire him, he won't just because you're looking to hire on."

"Sam?" the Doctor asked.

"Sam Martin," Groucho answered. "The manager."

"He's the one we'd need to talk to?"

Groucho nodded.

"And we'd find him...?"

"At the theatre mostly." He grinned. "I think he sleeps there sometimes."

Just then, a dark-haired young man burst into the room. "Julie, we're on in ten minutes. What are you doing still here?"

Groucho pulled a watch out of his pocket and checked the time. "Yikes," he said. He stood up hurriedly and tucked his book under his arm. "Folks, this is my brother Leo," he said to Sarah, Harry and the Doctor.

"Yeah yeah, introductions later, we gotta go," Leo said. "Nice meeting you folks." He waved in their general direction as he hustled his brother toward the door. Groucho dragged his feet long enough to shrug his shoulders at the time travellers and say, "See you around!", then they were both out the door.

"And that was?" Harry asked Sarah in a low voice.

"Chico," she answered quietly, but with a big grin.

They finished their dinners, careful to limit their conversation to subjects such as their hopes for getting hired and what a nice young man that Julius Marx seemed to be, as there were still others at the table. But once they headed back to the room, it was hard not to notice the spring in the Doctor's step.

He wedged a chair under the doorknob to secure the room door, then led the way into the TARDIS. He fairly bounded up the ramp, then turned and beamed at them. "Oh, well done, you!" he said, including them both in his smile.

"And you," said Sarah, climbing the ramp and flopping onto the console bench seat. "You certainly got his nose out of that book with the unicorn comment."

"And you both jumped right in and carried it along," he pointed out. "And Harry--Jack London--brilliant!"

"What?" Harry asked, giving Sarah a "scoot over" look and sitting down next to her when she obliged. "Jack London--brilliant--yes, he was."

"No, he meant it was brilliant of you to notice he was reading a Jack London book and to act interested," Sarah clarified.

"That wasn't an act. I love Jack London."

"Well...how lucky for us then!" Sarah grinned. "And I suppose you've actually been to Alaska?"

Harry nodded. "Early days in the Navy. Just as I said." He quirked a grin at her. "He didn't need to know those early days were in the 1970s, did he?"

"Well, it was even more brilliant if it was all true," the Doctor said. "He knows who we are now, knows we're a bit mad, which isn't a bad thing when dealing with the Marxes, and knows we've got books he might like to read."

"Which should be irresistible to a voracious reader like him," Sarah added.

"A good day's work," Harry said. "A good long day's work," he added, stretching and drawing out the o in long. "I'm knackered. Where do we bunk on this ship of yours, Doctor?"

"Remember where you used to stay?" the Doctor asked, peering at the TARDIS console screen.

"No," Harry laughed. "That was thirty years ago!"

"Just as well, it's not there anymore," the Doctor said. He looked up and beckoned Harry over to the screen and showed him a schematic diagram of the TARDIS with the various sleeping accommodations highlighted. Harry scanned it for a moment, then nodded. "Need anything, check the cupboards. Let me know if you can't find something essential," the Doctor added.

"Will do. Sarah?"

"I'd be hot on your heels if I weren't too tired to get up off this bench," she said.

"Want a lift?" Harry offered, a sparkle in his eye.

"Thought you were knackered," she said.

"I am," he agreed. He wished them a good night and headed off through a coral archway.


	7. Chapter 7

Sarah leaned back and yawned hugely. "I suppose you'll be up all night while we mere humans recharge our batteries."

"I do have some work to do," the Doctor said, distractedly, as he scanned the console screen and hit some keys. "First off, need to set up a system where, anyone comes to the door, we hear it no matter where we are in the TARDIS." He touched the screen and then clicked a few more keys. "And the door sticks just long enough for us to get there. Without rousing suspicion." He looked over his shoulder at Sarah and gave her a grin. "You too tired to test it out?"

"Who me?" she asked. She widened her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "Not a bit tired. What do I need to do?"

"Go out of the room, close the door, knock on it, and then try to open it."

Sarah walked down the ramp and out of the TARDIS and then left the room. She closed the door, knocked, and tried to open it, as directed. The door wouldn't budge, and after a second try, she just closed her eyes and leaned against it.

When the Doctor opened it a moment later, she nearly fell into the room. He caught her with a worried look, but when she gave him a sleepy grin, he relaxed and returned the smile. "Works!" he said. "I could hear you clear as day, even with the TARDIS doors closed."

"That's nice," Sarah said, as they walked back up the ramp. She sat down on the bench again, and this time the Doctor sat next to her.

"Now I need to get to work on a portable time slip detector-fixer," he said, arching his back and then rubbing a shoulder.

"You mean one of those things the Time Lords have that's too big to fit in a TARDIS?" she asked.

"Exactly." She gave him a doubtful look. "A miniature version," he clarified. "Should do when I'm right on top of it, instead of half a universe away." He thought for a moment. "Actually, it will draw on the TARDIS systems. Just need a portable component that I can carry out and about to zero in on the slip." He tipped his head back, eyes at half mast, and rubbed his neck.

Sarah watched him for a moment, then said, "Turn around." He looked a bit surprised, but turned toward her. "Other way," she said, twirling her finger at him. His look of surprise edged toward bafflement, but he obliged and turned away from her. She scooted sideways on the seat, hitching up her long skirts so she could sit cross-legged on the bench. "Slouch," she said. He looked over his shoulder at her with a puzzled frown. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed lightly down. He slouched, using her knees as a back rest, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders, manipulating the muscles with strong fingers.

He made a noise that sounded something like "Gu-uu-uuh" and she felt him melt under her hands. She smiled, and kept massaging, working her way from his neck to his shoulders and half-way down his back, then back up and around again.

"Oh, Sarah," he groaned. Then he flinched and gave a small gasp.

"Sorry," she said, resting her hands on his shoulders for a moment.

'Oh, don't stop," he said. She grinned and started massaging again. "Just be gentle. I used muscles today I haven't used in centuries."

"Or ever," she said.

"Actually, true," he agreed.

She gently pushed his head down towards his chest with her thumbs and he let it fall forwards so she could work on a different set of muscles from a different angle. Before long, she felt a familiar vibration under her hands, and a grin spread across her face. It had been a long time since she'd felt and heard that contented thrumming. She made a quarter turn so she was facing the console again, straightened her legs, and lowered the Doctor's head and shoulders onto her lap. He just lay there, utterly relaxed, eyes closed and a lazy grin spreading from ear to ear. She rested a hand on his chest and smiled as she felt him hum.

"Made you purr," she said softly.

"Yes you did," he agreed without opening his eyes or losing his languorous grin. He chuckled, a warm rich sound that vibrated in his chest, resonating with the purr in a way that Sarah found quite delightful. "Never did understand why you got such a kick out of making me purr," he said. "Perfectly ordinary biological response."

"For cats," she said.

"And Time Lords," he said. He lay there, purring quietly, for a moment, then laughed. "I reckoned you'd have a houseful of cats when I came back for you, as much as you like purring."

Sarah didn't respond for a moment. "Not quite the same," she said finally, keeping her tone light. She looked down at him and smoothed an unruly lock of hair off his forehead. "Do tigers purr?" she asked.

"If _you _rub their shoulders, I'm sure they would," he said. Then he opened one eye and looked up at her. "Was that a compliment?"

She just smiled down at him, and he held her gaze for a second, then his eye drifted closed and he chuckled. "You almost fell off your chair the first time. Remember?" Again, he cracked one eyelid and looked up at her.

"How could I forget?" she asked. "That...dragon...pig...aardvark thing snapping at our heels as you climbed the rope out of that pit with me hanging onto your shoulders. Reckoned it was the least I could do to try to massage the soreness out later. And then you start purring."

"You'd already seen me regenerate by then. I'd have thought you'd take a simple purr in stride."

"The day you stop surprising me, Doctor, is the day I close my eyes for the last time," Sarah said softly.

He looked up at her, his eyes suddenly dark, and the purr trailed off to silence.

"Oh, don't stop," Sarah said, pleadingly.

He gave her a crooked grin. "It's an involuntary response. I can't just turn it off and on."

"Well, then, sit up and let me rub your shoulders some more," she offered.

He chuckled, but didn't comply. Instead, he looked deeply into her eyes. His grin faded, and he put his hand on top of hers where it still rested on his chest. "Sarah." He paused, and looked away. "There's something I want to tell you."

She waited, but he didn't continue. "I'm listening," she finally said gently.

His voice was very soft when he continued. "I always did mean to come back for you."

"Doctor, you don't have to..." Sarah started, but he interrupted.

"I know. But I want to. Because what I told you. At the school. It was just..." He sighed. "I was so upset at meeting you again." His eyes wandered around the console room, looking everywhere but in hers. "Upset doesn't even begin to describe it. Devastated, really." He looked at her with a world of sorrow in his dark eyes. "Still am."

She looked at him, her eyebrows raised. "Devastated?" she repeated softly. She tried to keep the hurt and astonishment out of her tone but knew she hadn't succeeded by the look he gave her.

"Oh, Sarah," he said. He sat up, ran his long fingers through his hair, and took her hand again. He sighed deeply, and she waited. "Imagine...imagine the most wonderful box of chocolates in the universe." She blinked at him, startled by the sudden topic change, and his eyebrows furrowed. "You do still like chocolate, don't you?"

She laughed. "That doesn't change with age. Except maybe to intensify."

"OK, good. So. Someone gives you a box of the most wonderful, incredible chocolates in the universe."

"Better than those we had on Tangris 3?" she asked.

"Oh, much better," he said, his eyes wide with emphasis. "The only catch is...you can never have any more. Just this one box." He looked in her eyes, waited a moment, then continued. "What would you do?"

She searched his eyes, trying to see where this was going, but he just patiently waited for her to answer. "Well. I suppose I'd try one right away. Just to see if they're really that good."

He laughed and shook his head. "That's my Sarah Jane." He squeezed her hand affectionately. "OK, you've tried one, and it is absolutely as described. Now what?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Well. If they're that good, I'd probably be tempted to gulp them all down at a go."

He nodded. "Absolutely," he agreed. His eyes searched her face intently. "Would you do it?"

She took a deep breath and frowned at him. "I'd be half afraid to." His eyebrows went up, wordlessly asking why. "What if they were so wonderful that nothing tasted good to me ever again?" She rubbed her cheek with her free hand, getting into the spirit of his odd question. "Not that I don't wish food didn't taste so good sometimes. But...to lose all joy in eating?" She gave him a pained look. "That would be hard."

He nodded. "Very," he agreed, his eyes again full of sorrow.

Sarah thought another moment. "Do I have a terminal illness?" she asked.

His eyes went wide. "Sarah. Why? What's wrong? Come on, let's go to the infirmary and have the TARDIS check you out." He started to get up, pulling her with him, but she laughed and tugged on his hand until he sat back down.

"Silly, I mean...in the chocolate question world."

He looked at her and then breathed out a relieved sigh. "Oh, Sarah. Don't do that to me."

"I'll try not to," she said with a soft laugh. "So..in the chocolate question world, do I have a terminal illness?"

He shook his head. "You have every..." His face grew grim. "...possibly naive and overly optimistic expectation of living out your full natural life span."

She searched his face again, trying to make sense of the emotions she saw there. "Then...provided I didn't get into a brown funk and down them all one day...Oh." She broke off as a new thought occurred to her. "Do they keep?"

"Pardon?" the Doctor asked.

"Do they keep? Stay fresh? Indefinitely?"

"Absolutely," he nodded. "The last one will be just as wonderful as the first, no matter when you eat it."

"OK, then, I'd do my best to ration them out and with any luck would finish off the last one just before I take my last breath."

He just looked at her, eyebrows slightly raised. She stared back at him.

The penny dropped. "Am I the box of chocolates?" she asked.

He gave her a slightly sheepish smile. "Your life is," he said.

She frowned, remembering her answers and seeing them in this new light. "And you wanted to...ration me?"

He gave her a lopsided grin and nodded. "I really did have to leave you behind when I was called home. And, well, you know what my life's like. One thing after another."

She nodded.

"But I was always thinking about you. And how I could...not gulp down all the days of your life at a go." His eyes grew soft as he looked at her. "That's what I wanted to do, of course. Just go back and get you ten minutes after I dropped you off and spend the rest of your life with you." He looked down at their hands, fingers entwined, then went on, his voice soft. "But I couldn't imagine a future with no Sarah Jane in it. So I decided...I would grow old with you." He smiled up at her without raising his head. "And the only way I could do that would be to stay away long enough between visits that I aged as much as you."

She just blinked at him for a few moments as she processed this idea. "But...but....if you were going to do that, you should have come back ten minutes later in Aberdeen. And you didn't. So...what happened?"

"Deffry Vale School happened," he said, shaking his head and sounding thoroughly disgusted. "If I had known...if I had had any idea...." He looked up into her baffled eyes. "So long as we didn't meet again, I could go back. But when we did meet again, that locked our personal time strands. Now I can't go back. Because I didn't go back." He ran his free hand through his hair, distraught. "I should have known better than to spend so much time in London. But it's such a big place--so many people--and aliens seem to love it as an invasion point." He looked at her again, infinite sorrow in his eyes.

"So, you lost half of your box of chocolates when we met at Deffry Vale School." she said. He nodded silently. "And so did I," she added softly. He closed his eyes, then opened them and nodded again.

She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, and felt him rest his cheek on top of her head. They sat together in silence for long moments.

******************

"Well, you've got the showmanship. I'll give you that."

The Doctor smiled a very self-satisfied smile and nodded his thanks. He had fast-talked their way into an audition with Sam Martin, the theatre manager, that morning, and they had given it their all.

"Your assistants seem a bit rusty though," Sam continued.

The Doctor's eyebrows went up as Sarah and Harry exchanged abashed glances behind him. "Ah. Well. We've been travelling. Haven't had a chance to get a proper rehearsal in until yesterday. We'll get back on form as soon as we start doing the show every day."

Sam looked up at him from the floor of the theatre, where he had been watching the act. "If you work for me, you'll be doing four a day, not one a day."

"All the better," Sarah said.

The manager hopped up onto the stage with them in one lithe movement that belied his graying hair. He sauntered around Harry, taking in his costume, and then, more slowly and appreciatively, did the same to Sarah, examining her minutely, then reaching out to feel the material of her sleeve. "The costumes nearly make up for it, though," he said. "Never seen anything like them."

"And not likely to again," thought Sarah, but she just gave him a pleasant smile. Remembering their second foray into the TARDIS wardrobe, searching for the most exotic items they could find, made it easy to smile. It had been brilliant fun, even if they had had to discard some of their favorites as being too other-worldly to pass 1913 Earth muster.

The manager stepped back from Sarah and caught the Doctor's eye. "Can you do the Chinese Water Torture bit?"

The Doctor's bottom lip pooched out as he gave it a moment's thought. "I could." He tugged on one ear lobe. "Well. I know how it's done. But we don't have the apparatus and really can't afford to have one built."

"What if I had one built for you? To your specs?"

The Doctor took a deep breath, ran the tip of his tongue around the inside of his teeth, then looked the manager in the eye. "I could. But I won't."

Sarah looked at him in dismayed surprise. The manager noticed, and she noticed him noticing, and quickly reframed her features into a confident smile.

"Afraid of Houdini?" Sam said. He chuckled. "I've heard he's death on impersonators."

The Doctor's face grew sober. "No. I'm not afraid of him. He's my friend. And the Chinese Water Torture is his new trick. He's just introduced it this year and it's the highlight of his act. So, I'm sorry, but even if you had one built for me, I wouldn't do it. It wouldn't be right."

Sam looked him up and down, taking his measure. "How long have you been in show business?"

"Just trying to break in, actually," Sarah answered for the Doctor when he didn't say anything for a long moment.

"Not sure you're suited for it. Scruples and show business don't mix well."

The Doctor just compressed his lips and gave him a slow blink. "I can do the milk can escape, if that would help," he offered.

Sam sneered. "That's old hat."

The Doctor nodded amicably. "It's been around awhile," he agreed. Then he raised his eyebrows and looked a challenge at the manager. "Got anyone who does it?"

Sam didn't answer. He turned and started to walk toward the wings. "Sorry, no Chinese Water Torture, can't use you."

Sarah looked at his retreating back and frantically signalled the Doctor with her eyes. His compressed lips and steely gaze told her there was going to be no compromise on this one.

"Wait. Mr. Martin." He turned with a Chessy cat grin, as if he'd been expecting her call. Sarah threw a glance of desperate apology at the Doctor. "We also do a mentalist act."

Sam frowned, but walked back their way. "Mentalist."

Sarah nodded eagerly, not looking at the Doctor but feeling his eyes boring into her anyway. "Yes. So, you see, you'd get two acts in one if you hire us."

"Two acts for the price of one?" he asked, a bit too eagerly.

"No," said Harry. "Two acts for the price of two."

The Doctor and Sarah both looked at Harry with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, the Doctor's unhappy look washed away by surprise and amusement.

"Ah. You're the business manager?" Sam asked, addressing Harry directly for the first time.

Harry looked him in the eye. "I'm the father." He gave a quick twist to his head. "Same thing."

Sam gave him a long look, then nodded. "Well, I'm not going to buy a pig in a poke. Show me the mentalist act." He slouched into a wooden chair that was on the stage, pulled a fob watch out of his pocket, flipped open the lid, and glanced at the time. "And make it snappy. The theatre opens in half an hour and we have to get the stage dressed before then."

"Ah. Okay," Sarah said, stepping in front of Harry and the Doctor and approaching Sam. She quickly scrutinized him, taking in every detail of his appearance, then made her decision. "May I borrow your ring?" she asked, indicating the silver and ruby solitaire he wore and holding out her hand, palm up.

He looked her over for a second, then obliged, taking the ring off and placing it on her open palm.

"Thank you," she said, and nodded to him. Then, with her best theatrical air, she glided over to the Doctor and flourished the ring in front of him. "Now, the Doctor will, for your amazement and amusement, open the veil and tell you the secrets of...this ring." She trailed off, looked at the Doctor, and handed him the ring.

"If we're going to do this, we need to work on the patter, Sarah Jane," he said softly.

"Tell me about it," she agreed, also _sotto voce_.

He held her eyes for another second, then turned his attention to the ring in his hand. He raised his eyes to meet Sam's. "Do I have your permission to do this?" he asked the manager.

Sam snorted and grinned a cocky grin. "Sure. Give it your best shot."

The Doctor held his gaze for a long moment, until Sam's grin faded under his intense scrutiny. Then he looked back at the ring in his hand. After giving it a thorough visual examination, he clenched his long fingers around it, closed his eyes tightly, and bowed his head.

For thirty seconds, the theatre was silent. Three pairs of eyes were rivetted on the Doctor's face, which started off placid and thoughtful but soon lost all traces of calm. The muscles in his jaw bunched, his eyebrows drew down, and he swallowed hard. His breathing changed, becoming soft gasps, then quieting again. When he finally opened his eyes, they were deep pools of grief.

He looked at Sam. "I'm sorry," he said softly. He shook his head gently. "I'm so very sorry."

Sam jumped up out of his chair, strode to the Doctor and snatched the ring from his hand. "What kind of an act is that?" he snarled, and started for the wings.

"The man who wore that ring. The last man before you. He died. In a...foolish and cruel war." The Doctor's voice was soft but it stopped Sam in his tracks. He stood, listening, but did not turn around.

The Doctor continued. "He left a family. You. His son. Just a baby. Others. Your sister. Sue Ella. Your brothers, Benjamin. And Thomas. They all knew him. You never did."

Sam turned slowly to face the Doctor. He didn't seem to be breathing, he was listening so hard.

"This is all you have of him. The father you never knew. The father that was taken from you by that..." The Doctor paused, his face working, then hit the next word with painful emphasis. "...idiotic, pointless war between your north and your south."

"Lots of people don't think it was idiotic and pointless," Sam said in a low voice.

The Doctor held his eyes. "You do."

Sam's eyes were huge. "I'd never admit it. Never have. Likely to get horsewhipped if I did."

The Doctor nodded. "Men love war," he said bitterly.

"Not this one," Sam said softly.

"Nor this one," the Doctor said. He shook his head. "Brother against brother. Father against son. Seven hundred thousand dead." He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "All that grief..." he said with a small gasp.

Sarah had watched with growing concern. When the Doctor gasped, she stepped up to him and laid one hand on his arm, pressed the other to his back. "Doctor," she said. "Let it go." He looked up at her but his eyes didn't connect with hers. She didn't know if he was looking into his own history with war, or into Sam's at that point, but she knew he needed her help. "Come back to us," she said softly, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

He blinked and took a deep breath, looking at Sarah and really seeing her this time. He licked his lips, then put one long arm around her shoulders. "I'm alright," he said. "I'm fine." He blew out a breath and shook himself.

Sam stood staring at him. "Well," he said. "That's quite an act."

"Thank you," the Doctor said simply, his voice still a bit rough.

"More of a dramatic piece than a mentalist act. But still. You really pull it off." Sam looked down at the ring that was still in his clenched fist, then slipped it reverently back on his finger. "You can start today. Mr. Sullivan?" He looked at Harry. "You'll be the one signing the contract?"

"And negotiating the salary," Harry said, as he followed Sam off the stage. He looked over his shoulder at Sarah and the Doctor and gave them a big wink.

"Don't hold him up for too much," Sarah called after him. "We need the work."

Harry shushed her with a mock-horrified look, then disappeared into the wings.

The Doctor sank into the chair Sam had vacated. Sarah knelt in front of him.

"And you were worried about what you'd do to the other person," she said.

He gave her a weak smile. "He didn't look like someone who was hanging onto that much grief."

"Neither do you," Sarah said softly. "Most of the time."

She rested a hand on his knee. "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes abject.

"Don't be." He smiled down at her, his brown eyes warm. "It was my own fault."

Her eyebrows lifted. "I didn't hear you volunteer for anything."

"We discussed it," he reminded her. "And left it as an option. It was a good card and well played." He widened his eyes at her and gave her a big happy grin. "And it worked."

Sarah sighed. "Now I wish it hadn't. I didn't know it was going to be so hard on you."

He shook his head. "That's not going to happen again. That's the part that was my fault. I could have taken a few extra seconds and shielded myself. But he was all fob watch and 'make it snappy', and I..." One corner of his mouth quirked up. "...cocky old me, thought..." He made a mock-thoughtful face and continued in a very cocky voice. "I don't need shielding. I can handle it." He snorted and shook his head again. "I didn't realize the..." He paused, closed his eyes and then breathed out a puff of air. "...the vast wellspring of grief that exists in this country from that war."

Sarah's eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. "You mean...it wasn't Sam?"

"Started out with Sam," he said. "And would have stayed with Sam if I'd had the sense to shield myself. Would have been fine. But Sam's psychic energy tapped right into that..." He shook his head again and fell silent.

"Do we have anything like that?" she asked.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Not that I've run into. Oh, your people love their wars, too," he said, dryly. "But you've never had one that ripped the soul of your country to shreds in quite the same way."

Harry appeared out of the wings just then, with a rolled-up piece of paper in his hand and a satisfied grin on his face. Sarah stood up as he approached. He stopped beside the Doctor's chair and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You alright...son?" he asked, looking down at the Doctor.

The Doctor looked up at him and grinned. "Just fine...Dad." He eyed the rolled-up paper. "Thanks for playing business manager. I'm rubbish with money."

"I remember. You never had any," Harry said.

They heard a loud and pointed throat-clearing and looked up, startled, to find its source. A young man in workman's clothes stood staring at them.

"Could you folks clear the stage? Show starts soon."

"Oh. Sorry." the Doctor said. He got up and they all headed off into the wings.

Sam's assistant met them there, and gave them an orientation tour. He assigned them a dressing room, showed them where to store their props and wardrobe, and gave them a copy of the schedule, revised to include them. Then he left them at the stage door.

Just as they exited the theatre, a gang of young people ran in through the stage door, laughing and talking. One of them skidded to a halt and turned to look at them. It was a very familiar dark-haired young man wearing wire-rimmed glasses. "Doctor! Sarah! Harry!" Groucho cried, surprised and obviously pleased to see them again. "Any luck?"

"We're on the bill!" Sarah Jane answered with glee. "Starting today! In..." She looked at the schedule they'd been given. "...oh my God, in two hours." she said. She looked at Groucho with sudden terror in her eyes, and he laughed.

"You'll be fine. Can't believe you got Sam to take you on. You must put on a hell of a show. Or Doctor, you must be a hypnotist as well as an escapologist," he said.

"Well," the Doctor said, trying to sound modest.

"Julie, come on!" Chico Marx popped back out of the stage door and urgently motioned his brother in. He noticed the Doctor, Sarah and Harry, and waved. "Hey, nice to see you folks again," he said, then disappeared into the theatre.

Groucho shrugged. "Gotta go! Look forward to seeing your act!" He ran into the theatre after his brother.

"And us yours!" she called after him, but he was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Sarah was looking forward to seeing _Mr. Green's Reception_, the Marx Brothers' act, but it was several days before she got the chance. She and Harry and the Doctor were too busy performing and polishing their own acts to do much of anything else. Harry had signed them up for the standard four a day--two escape acts and two mentalist acts--which left them very little time--or energy, in the case of the human members of the team--for anything else.

Fortunately, they discovered that audiences in 1913 were a lot more accepting than they were in the 21st century. The occasional faux pas or bobble was just treated as a part of the entertainment, as long as the act was by and large good.

And their acts _were _good, and got better with daily practice. The mentalist act proved to be the more popular as it quickly evolved into a showcase for the Doctor's wit and charm. Sarah, determined not to put him through another experience like the one he had with Sam--despite his assurances that he was properly mounting his psychic shields before each act--came up with a system for picking audience participants who would set just the right tone.

"I'll mingle with the audience," she told him, "in proper mystical style, of course. And you scan the people as I stand behind them, and give me a signal when you find one that doesn't have any hidden sorrows."

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'm not going to be reading many minds at that rate, I'm afraid, Sarah Jane."

"You know what I mean. Nothing deep and tragic. Jolly happy people. Jolly happy thoughts. Can you do that?"

He grinned at her and then laughed. "I'll give it my best shot," he said.

They were rarely mistaken in their choices. His readings began by being gentle, charming, and often inadvertently funny. Sarah saw his early reservations about invading peoples' minds fall away as he started truly enjoying himself.

"They really don't mind. In fact--they like it!" he said, astonished.

"I don't like to say I told you so..." Harry started.

"Then don't," Sarah broke in with a grin.

"And it's such fun to look into so many human minds," the Doctor went on, ignoring their interruption. "I've never had the chance to do that before."

"And?" Sarah asked.

He looked at her, eyebrows up. "And what?"

"You still like us?" She grinned.

"Oh, more than ever!" he said enthusiastically. "Humans are just...brilliant!"

Best results came with well-known local characters, as the audience loved hearing this young, elegant, cultured Englishman--as they thought--teasing out the character defects of their townsmen and telling their private tales out of school. The Doctor was careful not to reveal too much, of course. Only safe secrets. And since he could tell when a person was becoming uncomfortable, no matter what face they presented to the world, he never overstepped the mark.

When the readings starting bringing down the house in gales of laughter, Sarah noticed Groucho often standing in the wings, watching, listening, and laughing along.

The escape act grew and evolved day by day as well, presenting them with some new challenges. Sam called the Doctor aside as they were leaving the theatre one night. Sarah couldn't hear what was said, but saw the Doctor listening intently, then looking thoughtful, then nodding his head.

"What was that about?" she asked when the Doctor rejoined them and they were walking back to May's.

"The Denver police want to challenge me to escape from their handcuffs," the Doctor said. Sarah gave him a puzzled look. "It's classic Houdini stuff," he explained. "He does it for the publicity. So Sam wanted me to take up the challenge."

"You doing it?" Harry asked.

The Doctor grinned. "Sure. Shouldn't be a problem. But just in case it is...we need to practice a new trick."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"How to slip me a key if all else fails."

"In front of an audience? How are we going to get away with that?" Sarah asked.

"I'll show you when we get back to the TARDIS," he said, giving them both a cheeky grin and leaving them mystified.

Once back in the TARDIS, he led the way to the library and picked up the book on Houdini that they had looked at before. He leafed through it, found what he was looking for, and showed it to them.

Sarah and Harry looked at the photograph on the page he presented to them, then looked at each other.

"He's kissing his assistant," Sarah said.

"Ah, that's what it looks like," the Doctor said. "Actually, she's passing him a key that she's hidden in her mouth."

"This one's all yours, Sarah." Harry laughed and backed off a step.

"'Fraid so, Sarah," the Doctor said. "1913 isn't ready for Harry to do this."

"Harry isn't ready for Harry to do this," Harry said, still laughing.

Sarah looked up at him, then back at the picture. "The caption says his assistant was also his wife."

The Doctor nodded.

"I'm supposed to be your mum."

The Doctor grinned. "Mums kiss their sons, don't they?" he asked breezily.

"I suppose they do," Sarah said, a bit sharply. "But if they do it in a way that allows for passing a key from mouth to mouth..."

"People will talk," Harry finished for her, still chuckling.

"About what?" the Doctor asked.

Sarah realized that this fine point in the art of human snogging had him genuinely baffled. "Erm. Doctor?" He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You know how you told us about the Time Lord cultural taboos around telepathy?" He nodded. "Well...you've hit on one of our cultural taboos here."

His eyes grew solemn. "I certainly didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's alright," she assured him. "I'm just trying to explain. Mums just aren't supposed to kiss their sons the same way wives kiss their husbands."

"Oh," he said. He looked thoughtful. "An offshoot of your incest taboos then?"

"I guess," Sarah said. She thought a moment. "Yes, it must be."

"Well, if you don't want to..." he started to say.

"No, I'm not saying that," she said. "I just want to do it....properly, that's all."

"Then...we'll need to practice, won't we."

"I suppose so," she said, a bit weakly. She glanced at Harry, who grinned back at her. "Are you going to watch?" she asked.

"There's going to be a whole audience watching, Sarah," he said. "Might as well get used to it."

She looked at the Doctor, standing before her, this young Doctor, this slim and elegant Doctor, all liquid brown eyes and freckles and...and...

She sighed. "Where's the key?"

"Right here." He pulled a small key from his pocket and held it out on his palm.

She peered at it. "Is it clean?" she asked dubiously.

He laughed. "I can sterilize it if you like."

She looked up at him. "Not much point if it's going to be in both of our mouths." She took it off his palm and looked at it, then looked back up at him. "Can we start by just practicing passing it back and forth? Without trying to make it look real?"

He nodded. "OK. Good idea."

Sarah put the key in her mouth, then turned her face up to him. He bent down and their lips touched. Sarah quickly pushed the key into his mouth with her tongue.

He straightened up and took the key out of his mouth. "Well done, Sarah!" He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the key off. "How did it look, Harry?"

"Technique-wise?" Harry asked.

"Did-you-see-the-key-wise," Sarah said.

"Oh. No," he answered. "But as kisses go...it wasn't even motherly."

She fixed him with a glare. "We were just practicing transferring the key."

"Oh," Harry said, suppressing a grin rather badly. "Is that what you were doing."

"Let's try it again," the Doctor said. "So we're both comfortable with it. Don't want either of us choking on it or anything."

They passed the key back and forth several more times, until Sarah actually did start to feel comfortable doing it, much to her amazement.

The Doctor took the key out of his mouth after the last pass, and wiped it dry again. "Now. Can you show me what a motherly kiss would be?"

She looked him in the eye and saw nothing but earnest inquiry there. She took a deep breath. "OK. Bend down." He did, and she gave him a very quick peck on the lips.

He straightened up and looked at her. "I don't think we can pass the key that fast, Sarah."

"Exactly," she said.

"But...it wouldn't be proper if we took much longer than that?"

She shook her head. "Not if I'm supposed to be your mum."

He thought a moment. "The audience doesn't know that you're my mum. We don't announce it or anything."

"True," Harry chimed in.

"And you certainly don't look old enough to be my mum," the Doctor said with a grin.

"Oh, don't even try for gallantry at this point," Sarah responded.

He chuckled and, after a moment, she did too.

"Let's practice some more," she said.

And they did.

*********************

"Look at that," Harry said, pride in his voice. "Just one week and our names are up in lights."

Sarah looked at him. "Lights, Harry? All I see is a bigger type font." They were standing in front of the theatre, admiring the new bill that had just been posted.

"Well, that's the 1913 version of getting your name up in lights, isn't it?" Harry said. "And, we've moved down the bill. Face it Sarah." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze. "We're a hit!"

Sarah had to grin at the poster in front of her. It did feel good to know they weren't just pretending to be a vaudeville act to save Groucho--they were doing it well. "Ready to resign from MI5 then?" Sarah asked. "And stay here and see if you can make the big time?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked around with an appraising air. "I almost could stay here," he said softly. "It's a good time."

"Suits you," she agreed.

"If that was meant to be a dig, it missed its mark, because I agree," Harry said.

She shook her head. "No dig at all, Harry. There are lots of good things about this time." She looked around the street, too. "Wish I could take some of them home with us." She chuckled. "Mind, I think we've made some progress in terms of treating ethnic groups with respect."

Harry grinned. "Not very politically correct, are they?"

"They wouldn't even understand the concept," she agreed.

They had finally managed to find time to watch the Marx brothers on stage, both from the audience and from the wings, and while they still loved the wild humor of the Marxes and the amazing harp and piano performances, they had cringed at the ethnic stereotypes that formed the basis for much of the show.

"What amazes me is that no one is offended. The Italians in the audience are the ones that laugh the loudest at Chico's bad Italian accent. The Irish get a huge kick out of Harpo playing an Irish dunce."

Sarah shrugged. "And as long as everyone's laughing, it's okay?"

"I guess so," Harry said. "Will be for another sixty or seventy years, anyway."

The Doctor was standing a few yards away with a group of the young, single men from the show, including all four Marx brothers. They seemed to be in earnest conversation, although laughter rang out on a regular basis. He finally broke away, with much friendly back-slapping and hand-shaking, and joined Harry and Sarah in admiring the poster.

"Sarah, did you run across the term 'three-sheeting' in any of your reading about the Marxes?" he asked her in a voice soft enough not to be heard by the young men.

She laughed. "Yes. Why?"

"Because they want to know why I haven't gone three-sheeting with them. They say there's a great demand for me."

Sarah gave him a wide-eyed, amused look as she tried to stifle a giggle. "Yes, I imagine there would be," she said, nodding sagely. She glanced over and saw some of the men looking their way. "Let's walk and talk," she suggested, and they headed off down the street toward May's.

"Three-sheeting," she said, once they were safely out of earshot of the theatre front, "is the practice of loitering outside the theatre after the show, hoping to make the acquaintance of the local young ladies."

"We had a different name for that in the Navy," Harry said.

"No, I don't think it's quite what you're thinking, Harry," Sarah said with a grin. "These are just local girls, not..."

"Professionals?" Harry suggested.

"Ladies of the evening might be a more period-appropriate term," Sarah said, "but yes, that's what they're not. They're just local girls who are looking to have some fun with the actors."

"Groupies?" Harry asked.

Sarah tipped her head back and forth, weighing her answer. "Not really. They're not that particular. Anyone from the show will do."

Harry's eyebrows arched up. "But you say they're not...working girls?"

"No, not at all. It's just that, in this era, nice young ladies are rather restricted in what they can do and still be considered nice young ladies. So, if you want to do a bit more than you're supposed to, you're best off doing it with someone who isn't going to stick around and ruin your reputation. All of these attractive, charming and talented young men..." She looked up at the Doctor with a grin. He raised his eyebrows, pointed at himself, and pulled a "who-me?" face. "...who come to town for a week or two with the vaudeville circuit and then disappear on the train are perfect for...exploration, shall we say?"

"And the young men aren't averse to....exploration either," Harry said.

"Not at all," Sarah agreed.

"Hmph. How come the boys haven't invited me three-sheeting?" Harry asked.

Sarah pulled a horrified face for his benefit. "You're a married man, Harry Sullivan!"

Harry rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. "Whose idea was that?" he asked, sounding disgusted, but then giving Sarah a cheeky grin.

"Well," said the Doctor, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Doesn't sound like the chance to get closer to Groucho that I hoped it might be."

"No," Sarah laughed. "Get closer to someone, yes, but not Groucho."

"But Groucho's the key to the time slip. The more readings I take, the more certain I am. He is at the heart of it." The Doctor had been spending his nights, while Harry and Sarah slept, working on and testing his portable time slip finder-fixer. "He's the one I'd like to be able to follow around."

Harry shook his head. "Wouldn't do your reputation a bit of good to follow Groucho around when he's on the prowl for girls. Could get a bit tricky, in fact. Might end up with Groucho avoiding you."

"But he likes me. He likes all of us," the Doctor protested.

"He won't if he starts thinking you want to go three-sheeting with him _because _of him," Harry said. "Or for that matter, if you do go with him and end up taking all the girls away from him. Which you probably would," he concluded with a wry grin. "Without even trying, or wanting to."

The Doctor shook his head. "Humans," he said, sounding a bit frustrated and a bit mystified.

"Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em," Harry said with a chuckle.

"So, what should I tell them when they ask why I won't go with them? That my parents don't approve?" the Doctor asked.

"Lord, no," Sarah said, truly horrified this time. "That would do your reputation even less good!"

"Wouldn't help ours any either," Harry chimed in.

"Why?" the Doctor said, once again baffled.

"By the time a man reaches your age," Harry said. "Well, the age you look to be anyway, he really shouldn't need his parents' approval to go out with girls."

"And we would come off as..." She searched Harry's eyes, looking for just the right word. "...controlling? Harry?"

"Pathological would be closer to it," Harry said. "If we wouldn't approve of you going out...three-sheeting. At your age."

The Doctor sighed. "Then should I tell them I'm just too busy working on improving the act to go with them?"

Sarah tipped her head from side to side again, thinking. "You'd come off as a bit of a swot that way. Which would be better than the other. But still..." She chewed on her bottom lip for a bit, then looked at him with bright eyes. "I know! Tell them you have a fiancee in England and you're planning to bring her over as soon as you can send her the money for the passage."

"Brilliant, Sarah," Harry said.

"A fiancee," he said. They nodded. "What's her name?"

Their eyebrows went up. "She's your fiancee. You get to choose," Harry said.

"What's she look like?" the Doctor asked.

Harry and Sarah Jane exchanged amused glances. "Your choice."

The Doctor nodded. "OK," he said.

They walked on for a few paces in silence.

"Well, what's her name?" Sarah finally burst out.

"And what does she look like?" Harry added.

The Doctor grinned at them. "You mean you haven't met her? That's a bit odd, isn't it? Devoted son like myself not introducing the fiancee to his parents?" He shook his head, stuck his hands in his pockets, and kept walking.

Harry and Sarah stopped and looked at each other. Harry scratched the side of his face with a puzzled air, and Sarah shrugged her shoulders at him. Then they turned and ran to catch up.

**********************

"You're up late." The Doctor looked up from the TARDIS console computer screen and smiled as Sarah Jane entered the room.

She smiled back at him. "The TARDIS energy must be working its magic on me. Or I've just now adapted to this new lifestyle." She flopped down cross-legged on the bench seat--much easier to do and more comfortable in the silky pyjama-like garment she'd found in the wardrobe than in her 1913 dress. "For the first time in a week, I don't want to just collapse in an exhausted heap as soon as the last show is over."

"Those Foltroonian ceremonial _slykoskas _look comfortable," he said with an appreciative smile.

"Oh, they're marvelous. What did you call them?"

"_Slykoskas_," he repeated, putting a slight "sh" sound into the initial consonant. He raised his eyebrows and gave her an appraising look. "Getting homesick for the twenty-first century?"

"No. Oh no," Sarah said emphatically. Then she thought a moment. "Well. Maybe a little." She grinned. "I am heartily sick of wearing long dresses and putting my hair up." She ran her fingers through her long auburn hair, enjoying the feeling of having it down and loose.

He grinned back. "I can tell." He turned back to the screen.

"And the romance of vaudeville," she went on, giving an ironic twist to the word _romance_. "Has somewhat evaporated in the face of what plain hard work it is. And Harry and I don't do half what you do."

He glanced over his shoulder at her with a smile, but didn't comment, then went back to work on the monitor.

"I don't think Harry's homesick for the twenty-first century at all," she went on after a moment. "I think he's half-tempted to stay here."

The Doctor answered without turning away from the screen. "I'm afraid he'd regret it. Your first world war is just a year from starting. And your flu pandemic is only five years down the road."

She sighed softly and then sat in silence, thinking about what was history to her and would be the future for the Marxes and all the other people they'd met on this trip. The Doctor clicked away at the screen, occasionally picking up a silvery device that just fit in his hand and looked something like a miniature rocket ship. He seemed to be making adjustments to it in response to what the TARDIS was telling him..

"Did Harry turn in?" the Doctor asked, breaking into her thoughts.

'"No. He's in the library. Reading. TARDIS energy must be working on him, too."

"Wonder what he found to read," the Doctor mused as he continued working.

"He was looking for Gallifreyan medical texts," Sarah said.

The Doctor looked up sharply. "Why?"

Sarah Jane smiled gently at him. "He really hates it when a friend is sick or hurt and he doesn't know what to do to help."

The Doctor just stared at her, wordlessly, as his eyes went from startled to understanding to deeply moved. "He's a good friend," he finally said, softly.

"Yes, he is," Sarah agreed. "And a good doctor. More of a calling with him than a profession."

The Doctor nodded. "I saw that in him before. Even moreso now."

He turned back to the screen and kept working. Sarah rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands and just watched him for a few minutes.

He gave a last decisive click on the computer keyboard, then turned to face her with the miniature rocket device in his hand. "Right. Time for my nightly perambulation," he said. "Want to come?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Where? To do what?"

"Wandering the streets of Denver. Gathering data on time deviations."

"Is that what you've been doing every night while Harry and I slept?" she asked.

He nodded. "Would be more fun with company, though." One eyebrow went up in invitation.

"Bit late for a proper lady to be wandering the streets, isn't it?" she asked. His face fell, and she grinned. "Give me five minutes."

She flew off the bench seat and out through the arch leading off the console. Four minutes later, she was back, dressed in men's clothing of the period, her hair stuffed into a cap, her cheeks and chin lightly shaded with makeup to give the suggestion of stubble. "Allons-y!" she said.

They checked in with Harry, to let him know where they were going and to ask if he wanted to join them.

"Not me," he said. "One of the things I always regretted about jumping ship last time was that I never got to really explore the TARDIS the way I wanted to. I'm not making that mistake again." He looked around. "This library alone could keep me busy for a lifetime." He grinned at the two of them as they stood there, obviously champing at the bit to go. "But I'll leave the light on for you. Nice look, Sarah Jane," he added, and she touched the brim of her cap to him. And with that, they were off.

"How do you decide where to go?" she asked the Doctor as they headed down the street away from May's.

He was holding the device out in his left hand, occasionally bringing it close enough to check a reading, then holding it back out. "I follow the temporal fibrillations," he said.

"Of course you do," she said with a grin, and just followed him after that, thoroughly enjoying herself, wandering through Denver and seeing a side of it that her daytime role as a proper lady did not allow her to see. The Doctor's presence and her masculine costume kept her feeling perfectly safe.

When they got back to the TARDIS, the Doctor showed her how he downloaded and analyzed the temporal readings that they had gathered. "Look," he said, pointing at the now-familiar graphic of the time slip. "We're getting really close."

She squinted at it. "So close it sometimes looks like we're past it," she said.

He nodded. "We're not. That's just the wibbly wobbliness of time distorting the image."

"How can we be that close already?" she asked. "You said we'd landed a month out. It's been just over a week."

"I said about a month. A week is about a month." he said. She gave him a doubtful look and he continued. "From the perspective of a thousand years it is. Or even a hundred." She pulled a _meh _face, conceding the point. He tweaked the image again, fine-tuning it with the new data. "Our landing may have accelerated it, too. Caused an oscillation in time. Bumped it forward."

She peered around him at the screen. "The show moves to Kansas City next week. Are we going with it? Or do we have to stay here because the time slip is going to happen in Denver?"

He shook his head. "It's not geographically based at all. When it happens, it happens everywhere. So we'll stay with the show. We've got to make sure that whatever effect it has on Groucho doesn't happen."

"So, the time slip might not be what changes Groucho?" Sarah asked, puzzled.

"I think it is, yes," the Doctor answered. "But I'll still want to make sure everything is back to normal once we've fixed it."

"How do you fix it?" she asked. "Without one of those big Gallifreyan machines?"

"Well, if I'm lucky enough to be in the TARDIS when it happens," he said. "I can fix it from here. Can't live in the TARDIS just waiting for it to happen, though, so..." He held out the device to give her a closer look. "That button..there...will link in the TARDIS systems. If I activate it at the precise moment the slip happens, I should be able to seal it right back up, no matter where I am."

"How will you know the precise moment?" she asked.

He gave her an intense, eyebrows-knitted look. "I'll know. My time sense will tell me."

"What if it happens when we're on stage?"

"Then Denver's going to be treated to a show it's never seen before and will never see again. I'm keeping this thing with me at all times from here on out," he said, indicating the device.

As it turned out, it didn't happen when they were on stage. It happened three nights later, as they were roaming the Denver streets.

The Doctor was looking at his device, so Sarah was the first to notice the two men at the end of a short alleyway they were passing. A shaft of moonlight reflected off the one man's wire-rimmed glasses, catching her eye. Then she saw that it was also reflecting off the barrel of a gun, which was aimed at the man in the wire-rimmed glasses.

"Doctor," she said, softly but urgently as she stopped and grabbed his arm.

He looked up at her, then followed her line of sight to see what had startled her. "Groucho," he breathed, horrified. He bolted into the alleyway, shouting "Oi!" at the top of his lungs as he ran, his long coat flapping behind him.

His sudden appearance, loud, commanding, and utterly unexpected, had the desired effect of breaking up the robbery attempt. It had the undesired effect of causing the terrified gunman to turn his pistol toward the Doctor and pull the trigger.

The Doctor doubled over and Sarah heard a soft grunt as the wind went out of him. The device flew from his hand and landed with a crackle somewhere in the shadows. The gunman pushed past them and was gone. Groucho just stood, in shock, staring.


	9. Chapter 9

"Sarah!"

She had never heard a tone like that in the Doctor's voice before, and hearing it now, it nearly took her knees out from under her.

"Doctor!" she said, running to him.

"TARDIS! Now!" he gasped.

"Doctor, are you hurt? Better..."

"Sarah, please," he begged. "TARDIS. Now!"

She ducked under his right arm, which was flailing madly out to his side, and tried to reason with him. "Doctor..." He turned wild, wide, unfocussed eyes on her. Even in the shadows she could see the chaos that had overtaken him, reflected in those deep brown pools. "TARDIS. Right," she said, grabbing his arm, draping it over her shoulders, wrapping her other arm around his slim waist, and taking off toward May's, the Doctor stumbling beside her.

She would never forget that run. Half guiding, half carrying the Doctor, keeping him from running them both into walls, trying to keep up with him when he found his legs for a few sure and swift strides, helping him up when he lost his footing and went to his knees, his gasping breath in her ears, panic in her heart. Her own breath coming in gasps before they were halfway there. His repeated whispered pleas of "Sarah!" and "TARDIS!" that wrenched her heart. "I've got you," she whispered back. "I'll get you to her. Trust me."

She thanked God that, in their nocturnal ramblings, she had learned her way around Denver well enough to be able to take him straight back to May's. They lurched up the walk together, through the door, down the hall, both of them gasping for breath so loudly that she couldn't believe they hadn't wakened the whole house. She tried the door. It didn't open. "Oh, please," she thought desperately. "He needs you."

The door popped open as if the TARDIS had heard her. She guided the Doctor into the room, then opened the TARDIS doors and with the last of her strength, helped him through.

He collapsed at the bottom of the ramp, rolling over on his back and breathing hard, one knee up, his left arm draped across his abdomen, his right thrown carelessly up and out on the ramp. Sarah made it a few steps further up the ramp before she grabbed the railing and sank to her knees, gasping for breath. Suddenly, she heard her name and felt strong arms around her.

"Sarah," Harry said, his voice full of fear. "What...."

"I'm fine," she gasped. "Out of breath. The Doctor...." She nodded toward the Time Lord, still sprawled at the base of the ramp.

Harry gave her a close look. She nodded again, trying to reassure him wordlessly. He tore himself away from her, headed down the ramp and knelt next to the Doctor. He quickly started unbuckling the Doctor's belt.

"Wha..what are you doing?" the Doctor gasped, lifting his shoulders off the ramp and peering down at Harry.

"Making like a doctor," Harry answered. He looked into the Doctor's uncomprehending eyes, then picked up the hand that lay on his abdomen and held it in front of his face.

It was covered with blood.

The Doctor looked at his own hand with astonished eyes. He put his hand on his abdomen again, and again brought it up in front of his face. Fresh blood. He blinked at it in amazement.

Harry had pulled the Doctor's shirt tail out and was examining the wound. He looked up to see the Doctor's surprise at the sight of his own blood. "You didn't know you'd been shot?" he asked, incredulous.

The Doctor shook his head. Then he reached out, grabbed the railing, and lurched to his feet.

"Doctor!" Harry cried. "Lie still. You're going to make it worse."

The Doctor shook his head and started up the ramp.

"At least let me stop the bleeding first," Harry said.

The Doctor shook his head again. "Infirmary," he said, his breath still coming in gasps.

He strode quickly up the ramp and through the coral arch that led off the console room, Harry on his heels. Sarah took a second to close the room door, then returned to the TARDIS and closed the doors behind her as she headed up the ramp after her friends.

She caught up with the Doctor and Harry in the infirmary. The Doctor was leaning against what appeared to be a cross between a dentist's chair and a doctor's examining table, his body at a forty-five degree angle to the floor, looking like he was in the process of doing a push-up. Harry was hovering. He threw her an exasperated look as she came in, then turned back to the Doctor.

"Doctor. Lie down. Let me see if the bullet went all the way through."

The Doctor shook his head. "Didn't," he said. Then his muscles tensed and his whole body strained for a few seconds.

"Then lie down and let me take it out."

The Doctor's body relaxed and he took a few breaths, then shook his head again. "Just give me a minute," he said, and his body tightened again and strained.

Sarah and Harry exchanged baffled and worried looks, but stood back and didn't say anything else.

The Doctor relaxed again, and blew out several breaths. Then his body tightened again, and he strained, teeth clenched, eyes screwed up tightly. This time, he brought his hand up to the wound, and a second later, a bloody bullet plopped out into his hand. His shoulders sagged, his head dropped, and he closed his eyes.

Harry reached out and took the lead slug from him. He looked at it and shook his head. "Damn," he said. "First time I ever had a patient do that."

The Doctor opened his eyes, straightened up, and turned. He slid into the chair, which smoothly and silently flattened itself until he was lying down. "Harry," he said, his voice rough.

"Oh. Something I can do," Harry said.

The Doctor gave him a weak grin and nodded. "That cupboard." He pointed. "There's a bottle. Violet. Not much left in it."

Harry opened the cupboard, rummaged a bit, then held up a likely suspect. "This one?"

The Doctor nodded. "Put one drop. Just one drop. Right in the wound."

Harry opened the bottle, finding a dropper inside, and did as the Doctor asked.

The effect was immediate. The Doctor visibly relaxed, closed his eyes, and blew out a long breath. "Thank you," he said, his voice his own again. "Now. Look in the cabinet again. You'll see a jar with patches in it."

"Patches?" Harry asked as he rummaged again. He held up a jar and gave it a little shake. "These things?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah. Pick one big enough to cover the wound with at least half an inch extra all around."

Harry sorted through the patches, pulled one out, and measured it against the wound, which had stopped bleeding after the one drop of medicine was applied. "Now what?" he asked.

"Just put it on," the Doctor said.

"With what?" Harry asked. "What makes it stick?"

"It grows into the skin," the Doctor said. Harry looked dubious, but applied the patch over the wound as directed. Within ten seconds, it had merged with the skin around the wound, leaving no visible trace of injury.

"Amazing." Harry said. "Would these work on humans?"

"Those particular ones most likely wouldn't," the Doctor said. "Could probably come up with some that would."

"What about infection?" Harry asked. "How does the wound drain?"

"Doesn't need to. That drop you put in. Antihaemorrhagic. Antiseptic. Anti-inflammatory. Antibiotic. Tissue regeneration stimulator. And analgesic."

"All in one?" Harry pooched out his bottom lip appreciatively.

The Doctor nodded. "And that's all I have left. So please be careful with it."

"You can't get more?" Harry asked.

He shook his head. "It's from Gallifrey. I've tried to formulate a substitute, but some ingredients can't be found anywhere else."

Harry very carefully replaced the lid of the violet jar and put it back in the cupboard, along with the patches.

Just then, they all heard the sound of knocking on a door.

Harry and Sarah exchanged glances. "I'll see who it is," Harry said. "You stay with him."

Sarah nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Harry."

"And I'm checking you over when I get back, miss," he said emphatically as he turned to leave the infirmary. "No arguments."

"What's he talking about? Are you alright, Sarah?" The Doctor asked, looking up at her, brown eyes full of concern.

"I'm fine. He's just a worrier."

"You sure?" She nodded. The Doctor raised his hand in her direction, and she took it in hers. He closed his eyes and pressed the back of her hand to his cheek for a moment. "Thank you..." he started, then laughed softly. He shook his head. "Thank you doesn't even begin to cover it, Sarah," he said. "I'd never have made it back here on my own."

"What exactly happened out there?" she asked.

"The time slip happened," he said with a sigh. "And me right in the middle of it." He blew out his cheeks. "Felt like I was being ripped to shreds."

"You really didn't know you'd been shot?" Sarah asked, still amazed.

He shook his head. "Would you notice a mosquito bite if someone was pouring boiling oil over you?"

"It was that bad?" she asked, looking at him with concern.

He closed his eyes and nodded, then opened them and looked up at her. "Remember what it did to me three weeks out?" She nodded. "That was a walk in the park." His eyes reflected his frustration. "I knew it would be bad. But I thought I'd get enough warning. And I thought I could hold it together long enough to push the button and seal the split." He sighed. "Didn't anticipate being so thoroughly distracted when it happened."

"Should Harry or I go look for your machine?" she asked. "Can you still use it to fix the slip?"

He shook his head. "Not now. It's gone too far. Best we can hope for at this point is to fix what it did to Groucho."

"But you did that. You saved him."

He shook his head again. "He still was robbed. At gunpoint. Terrified. Violated. If that was the event that changed him, then my barging in and getting myself shot didn't fix it. Could even have made it worse."

"How?"

A muscle jumped in the Doctor's jaw as he looked bleakly off into the middle distance. "He saw me. He recognized me. So now he thinks someone he knows and likes got hurt because of him." He paused a moment, then continued. "Guilt can eat away at you worse than fear."

She stroked his forehead gently. "Yes, it can," she agreed. Their eyes met for a moment, then he looked away. His eyes drifted closed. "You'd better get some sleep," she said. "Heal yourself. We can deal with the rest tomorrow."

He nodded. She watched him compose himself, saw him take several deep slow breaths, felt the muscles in his hand relax. She placed it by his side and let go, not wanting to distract him. She waited until she was sure he was asleep, then started to quietly leave.

His eyes popped open. "I thought you were asleep," she said, turning back to him.

He shook his head, frustration in his eyes. "My nerves are still too jangled. Can't get where I need to go."

"Can I help?" she asked.

"I don't know how," he said, but then looked at her thoughtfully. "Maybe...Sarah, do you remember the Venusian aikido I taught you?"

"Sure." She nodded. "I use it as my meditation. Always have."

"Really?" he said, sounding both pleased and hopeful.

She nodded again, more emphatically this time. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, I was just thinking," he said. "If you could quiet your mind. As I taught you. And then let me touch your mind. Maybe it would help me..."

"Quiet yours, of course," she finished for him. "Just give me a minute. I'll squeeze your hand when I'm ready. Or do you need to do the fingers on the face thing?"

He looked up at her, his hearts in his eyes. "Not with you, Sarah."

She smiled down at him, then closed her eyes and focussed on her breathing. She felt all tension fall away, felt her mind emptying, her body relaxing, felt herself reach the clear and quiet state that thirty years of practicing this mental discipline had allowed her to attain.

She gently squeezed his hand, and a moment later, felt his mind touching hers. Lightly. Gently. Carefully touching the quiet that she'd built to share with him. She opened her mind to him completely, fully, willing the quiet to embrace him, to give him the peace he needed, to heal the wounds, all the wounds he'd suffered in his long life. She felt him take the quiet, felt him slip away into silence, gratefully, and knew he'd managed to put himself into the healing coma that he needed to mend the physical damage of the gunshot wound.

She felt her knees weaken and grasped the edge of the table for a moment. Then she called on every last stitch of mental discipline she had and quieted her mind again. She turned and walked out of the infirmary, keeping her eyes closed, focussing entirely on holding onto the quiet, keeping all that pain, all his pain, quiet, silent, just there, not being pain, not actually, because pain couldn't touch her when her mind was quiet, it just would roll off her, it would just be gone, it wasn't hers, if she could only keep it quiet, for just a little longer....

"Sarah?"

Harry's voice shattered the quiet. She opened her eyes and looked at him and tried desperately to put the pieces back together. But it was no good. The pain flooded her mind. She heard Harry say her name again, heard the concern in his voice, heard it veer toward panic as her legs turned to jelly and she slowly sank out of consciousness and into the pain. The Doctor's pain.

*********

"Harry. I'm fine. Let me up."

"Fine people don't faint, Sarah Jane. Lie still." The only reason she complied with this command was that Harry had a hand on each of her shoulders and was forcibly preventing her from sitting up.

"I did not faint," she said indignantly.

He raised his eyebrows. "Then what did you do?"

She gave up for the moment and lay back on the bed. "Took an unplanned--and very brief--nap," she said, looking into his eyes. One corner of her mouth quirked up after a second.

"You're not going to jolly me out of this, old girl," he said, not the least amused. "He.." he said with a jerk of his head toward the TARDIS. "...may be able to patch himself up..." He paused a moment, shaking his head. "...quite literally...but you can't." He took one hand off her shoulder and put two fingers on her neck, checking her pulse.

Sarah lay quietly for a moment, then wriggled uncomfortably. "You could at least have put me on a better bed," she said."Why this one?"

"Shh," he said. She shushed, reluctantly, and waited while he finished taking her pulse, then lifted her eyelids in turn. "Any dizziness?" he asked. "Nausea? Discomfort?"

She shook her head to each. "I told you. I'm fine."

"Mmm-hmm," he said. "The only reason you're not in the infirmary is because it's occupied," he said, answering her earlier question. "And don't think I wasn't half-tempted to bump him off that exam table and put you on it and have the TARDIS run a full diagnostic on you." He gave her a stern look, then took a deep breath and relaxed a bit. "You're out here in case someone else comes knocking on our door and I have to field more inquiries about what happened while keeping an eye on you. Without having the least idea what did happen, of course."

"Oh, right," she said. "Who was that knocking earlier?"

"Groucho. He wanted to see the Doctor."

"What did you tell him?" Sarah Jane started to sit up, stopped halfway and raised her eyebrows at Harry. He reluctantly nodded permission, and she sat the rest of the way up, swinging her legs to the side and off the bed.

"Dizzy? Anything?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, dismissively. "Go on, what did you tell him?"

"I squeezed out the door so he couldn't see in the room, and told him that the Doctor would be fine but that he was resting at the moment and it wouldn't be good to disturb him."

"How was he?"

"Groucho?" She nodded. He gave a small, rueful chuckle. "He's in worse shape than the Doctor."

Sarah gave him a horrified look. "He wasn't shot too?"

Harry shook his head. "No, he's just an emotional wreck. He desperately wanted to call a doctor. I had to tell him I was one to calm him down." He looked intently at Sarah Jane. "What did happen out there?"

Sarah gave him the story of their evening's adventure, including what the Doctor had told her about the time slip after Harry had left the infirmary. Harry nodded when she finished.

"Well, that explains the police," he said.

"What police?" Sarah asked.

"Groucho said the police want to talk to the Doctor. I told him to have them check in the morning and see if he was up to it."

Sarah took a deep breath and looked at him with worried eyes. "Harry, he can't leave the TARDIS." She looked around the room. "It's a nightmare out here for him."

Harry shook his head. "He's going to have to. Unless we're just going to pack our bags and disappear into the night. Or go on saying he's too ill to be seen. Either way, what would that do to Groucho? We're supposed to be helping him, not giving him further emotional trauma."

Sarah looked at him, thinking it through, then nodded. "You're right. Groucho has to see that the Doctor didn't suffer any serious harm. Or at least that he gets over it."

"The no serious harm part is true, at least," Harry said, laughing softly. "Shakes off a gunshot wound like it was a hang nail. Amazing." He looked at Sarah Jane. "Did you see him expel the bullet?"

She nodded. "I did see that, yes." She laughed and shook her head. "He is amazing." She smiled and her eyes drifted out of focus, thinking about the Doctor.

"So, what did he do to you after I left that made you faint?" Harry asked softly.

"Harry!" she said, surprised and indignant. "Nothing! Why would you even say something like that?" Harry just looked at her and waited. "It wasn't him at all. It was me," she finally went on.

"Not surprising. Go on," Harry said.

"What do you mean, 'not surprising,'" she asked, still indignant.

"Sarah, you'd throw yourself under a bus for him. Do you think I don't know that?"

She paused just a moment too long. "Would not."

"Would too," he said, mocking her, but gently. "And I know there's nothing I can say or do to change it. Never has been." His eyes grew serious. "Back in the old days, I thought, I just don't want to be there when it happens. That's why I left. Now." He sighed. "Now, I want to be there when it happens. To pick up the pieces."

Sarah just blinked at him in astonishment for a moment. "Harry..." she said softly. "It's not like that at all. He just needed some help getting to sleep. So he could heal himself. He was so frazzled..."

"So you took that frazzlement on yourself. So he could sleep. Did he psychically transfer it to you?" His eyes grew dark. "I'm surprised. I thought better of him than that."

"No, no, it wasn't like that, Harry. He has no idea. He would never do that."

Harry gave her a scornful look. "You were psychically linked. How could he not know?"

"Because he went out before it happened. I know it. I felt it. He was so careful. So gentle. He just needed a little quiet. And as soon as he got it, he dropped off." She closed her eyes, remembering what had happened next. "It was my fault. I...I didn't put up my shields."

"You're not psychic. You don't know how to put up shields," Harry said. "Not that you ever would when it comes to him."

She crossed her arms and looked away from him. "It's possible," she finally said. "That I may be a bit too open to him." When Harry didn't say anything, she looked at him, and saw a crooked smile.

He stood up. "Come here," he said. She stood up, puzzled, and he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"Harry," she said, "I told you. I'm fine. I don't need consoling."

"What makes you think this is for you?" he said, not letting her go. "You scared the bloody daylights out of me, Sarah Jane."

She laughed, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Sorry."

"Yeah, well. Just don't do it again." He hugged her for another long moment, then held her out at arm's length and gave her an appraising look. "Now go wash your face. Or shave. You look like you have a five o'clock shadow."

She put a hand to her cheek and looked at him with surprise. "I'd forgotten that." She laughed. "I wonder if Groucho recognized me."

"If he did, you got some 'splaining to do in the mornin', Lucy," Harry said.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Sarah Jane and Harry were in the TARDIS galley finishing breakfast when the Doctor appeared in the coral archway, looking a bit pale but otherwise his normal self.

"You're up," Sarah said with a relieved smile. She got a very subdued smile in return, and felt his hand rest briefly on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze as he crossed behind her, headed for coffee.

She let him pour his coffee in peace. Once he had, he turned toward them, mug in hand, and leaned back against the counter.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked.

The Doctor took a sip of his coffee. "About 90%," he said.

Harry tipped his head back and forth thoughtfully. "Not bad. Considering."

The Doctor nodded his agreement. "Thank you," he said, after a moment, looking down at the coffee mug that he held cradled in both hands. "Both of you," he said, raising his eyes to them. He quirked them a crooked smile. "Good thing for me you didn't decide to wait in 1963."

Harry gave him a wry smile. "I expect you could have medicated and patched yourself if I hadn't been there to do it."

The Doctor nodded. "I expect I could have. But it was certainly nice not having to." He took another sip of his coffee, then gave Harry a low-key grin. "Sorry I'm such a bad patient."

"No complaints here," Harry said. "Wish all my patients were as do-it-yourself. Could close the surgical theatre." He leaned back and looked at the Doctor thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you could teach human beings how to spit bullets out the way you did?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Your physiology is much more tolerant of foreign bodies than mine," he said.

Harry nodded. "And before something like this happens again..." He held up both hands, palms out, to ward off Sarah's protests. "Just in case. Maybe you could give me a quick course on where your vital organs are?"

The Doctor looked at him with surprise. "All of my organs are vital, Harry," he said. "Aren't yours?"

Harry chuckled. "We can do without some for longer than others," he said.

"Ah. Well. Yes. So can I," he agreed. He took another sip of his coffee, then looked at Sarah Jane. "Thank you for helping me get to sleep last night, Sarah Jane," he said, his voice soft, his eyes warm. "I couldn't have done it without you." He looked down at his coffee mug.

Harry shot Sarah a dark look. She sent him back a warning one. "Glad I could help," she said.

They all sipped their coffee for a moment. Harry was the first to break the silence.

"Groucho came by last night. Wanted to see how you were."

The Doctor sighed softly. "What did you tell him?"

"Tried to keep it vague and reassuring. You'd been injured but it wasn't serious, you'd be alright." He glanced at Sarah Jane. "I had to tell him I was a doctor. Hope that doesn't blow our cover. Only way I could convince him he didn't need to bring a local man in on the case."

"I don't see any reason a doctor couldn't decide to go into vaudeville," Sarah said. "Especially if he's helping his son get a start in show business," she added with a smile.

Harry nodded, then looked at the Doctor. "He's coming back this morning. So are the police." The Doctor looked at him with huge eyes. "They want to ask you some questions about the hold-up."

The Doctor turned his eyes toward the archway, his face sober. "I can't go out there," he said softly.

Sarah and Harry exchanged glances.

"I just can't," the Doctor said, quiet desperation in his tone. "It's just too...." His voice trailed off and he ran his fingers through his hair distractedly as his eyes reflected the memory of last night's chaos.

Sarah compressed her lips, glanced at Harry, then looked back at the Doctor. "Isn't there something you can do...to make it better? To make it tolerable?"

"Like what?" the Doctor asked.

Sarah shook her head. "I don't know. It's your time sense that's bothered, right?"

He nodded.

"Well, isn't there something you can do to block it?" She thought a moment. "Like...people who have to work with horrible smells. The ones who clean up decaying corpses after disasters. They put Vicks under their noses to deaden their sense of smell. Is there anything....?"

He raised his eyebrows. "No Time Lord ever wanted to deaden his sense of time. It's what makes us...us. Can't function without it."

"Is there anything that affects your sense of time that maybe we could work with somehow?" Harry asked. He got a baffled look from the Doctor in reply. "Like...I don't know...jet lag in humans. Or getting lost in a good book. Things like that. That distort your sense of time. Ours, anyway," he added, as the Doctor continued to look at him without comprehension.

"We call it losing track of time," Sarah chimed in, trying to help.

The Doctor shook his head. "I never understood that expression. How can you lose track of time?"

"Humans do it all the time," Harry said. "Guessing Time Lords don't," he added, seeing the look on the Doctor's face.

"Well," Sarah said, desperately searching her memory for anything that might be helpful. "What about acupressure?" She looked at him with her eyebrows up and hopeful. "Do you have acupressure points?" she asked.

He nodded. "Well, yes," he said. "We have _chi _just like you." He pooched out his bottom lip. "Bit more than you actually."

"Are there any points you could use to...deaden, or control, or...somehow make it better for you out there?"

The Doctor shook his head slowly, his brown eyes troubled. "Not that I know of," he said. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, pushed off from the counter and strode out through the archway.

Harry and Sarah quickly followed him. They found him sitting at the bottom of the ramp, in front of the open TARDIS doors, elbows on his knees, the toes of his trainers pushed up against the door jamb. He was staring gloomily out into the boarding house room.

Sarah crouched next to him while Harry leaned against the railing behind them. "What are you doing?" she asked the Doctor.

He looked at her with stormy eyebrows. "Testing the waters." He lifted one foot and poked the toe of his trainer across the threshhold. He gave a low cry, closed his eyes, and quickly jerked it back.

Sarah searched his face. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Physically?" he asked. She nodded. "No." He shook his head slowly. "It's...very hard to describe how it feels."

"But it's not pleasant," she said.

He turned unhappy eyes on her. "Not at all," he agreed. He looked back out the doors and she saw a muscle jump in his jaw as he steeled himself for another try. This time, he extended a long arm until his fingers were outside the door. He held them there for a few seconds, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, but then jerked them back as if they'd touched a hot coal.

"Does closing your eyes help?" Harry asked.

The Doctor looked up and over his shoulder at him. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"Well, both times just now, you closed your eyes when you stuck your fingers and toes out the door."

"Did I?" the Doctor asked, genuinely surprised. He looked at Sarah and she nodded.

"You did," she confirmed.

The Doctor took a deep breath, glared at the boarding house room as if it were a menacing Dalek, clenched his jaw, and stuck his hand out the door again. He closed his eyes for a beat, then opened them again, then closed them again. Then he snatched his arm back with a gasp.

"It helps a little," he answered their questioning looks. "Blocks out some of the distortion at least."

"Think you could stand it for a little while with your eyes closed?" Sarah asked gently.

He looked at her and swallowed hard. "Maybe." His eyes grew apprehensive. "I'm going to have to, aren't I?" he added, somehow managing to sound horrified and resigned at the same time.

Sarah put a hand on his shoulder. "I've been trying to think of a way around it. But..." She trailed off.

The Doctor turned to stare out the doors again, tucking his hands into his armpits and hugging himself tightly.

"How much did Groucho actually see?" Harry asked. "Last night," he added when the other two looked up at him.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "Enough to know it was the Doctor."

"I know that," Harry said, a bit impatiently. "But did he see where you were hit?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I doubt it. It was too dark, and.." He glanced at Sarah with a crooked grin. "...we didn't hang about."

"OK, then. How's this," Harry said. "The bullet grazed your skull. Caused some swelling in your brain which has affected your optic nerves so we have to keep your eyes bandaged."

"He's blind?" Sarah asked, frowning. "That's going to make Groucho feel awful."

"No, not blind. Just very...light sensitive. Light hurts his eyes. So we have to keep them bandaged until he's better."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and sighed deeply. "Worth a try. I guess."

"You have any old-style bandages?" Harry asked. "Vintage 1913?"

The Doctor nodded. "I think so. They'd be in the props room, though, not the infirmary."

"Let's go then," Harry said, heading up the ramp. "Groucho could be here any time."

The Doctor slowly rose to his feet and followed him up the ramp, Sarah beside him.

"Oh, and you'd better change into pyjamas," Harry said, throwing them a grin over his shoulder. "Your mother and I would never put you to bed in your suit."

Ten minutes later, the Doctor was again sitting at the base of the ramp, now barefoot and wearing blue and white striped pyjamas. Harry was expertly swathing his head with gauze bandages.

"Should we add a blood stain?" Harry asked. "Or would that be over the top?"

"We're trying to reassure Groucho, not horrify him," Sarah said. "I think nice clean white bandages will do."

Harry finished off the roll of gauze and tucked the end in to hold it firm. "How's that?"

"Wizard," the Doctor said dryly. "Can't see a thing."

"I made it loose enough so you can push it up until you...you know...go out there," Harry said. "Then you can pull it back down."

The Doctor reached up and pushed the bandages up above his eyebrows, gave them each a quick look, then pulled them back down. Then he pushed them back up again. "OK. We're ready."

They didn't have long to wait. Within minutes, they heard a tentative knock on the door, and a soft voice calling, "Harry? Sarah?" in a New York accent.

"Showtime," Harry said, as the Doctor levered himself up from the ramp and stood just inside the TARDIS doors.

"We'll help you," Sarah said softly, seeing his face set in dread.

He looked down at her, and his features softened. "I know you will." He turned back toward the door, pulled the bandages down over his eyes, and reached an arm out to her. She wrapped it around her shoulders and put her other arm around his waist, ready to guide him out into the unprotected world. "If I stop being able to form coherent sentences," he said just before they stepped across the TARDIS threshhold. "Get me back in the TARDIS. Fast."

She felt a tremor run through his body as soon as they stepped outside the TARDIS, and his knees started to buckle. Harry had been on his way to the door, but hurried back to catch him, calling "Be right there!" as he did. He swung the Doctor's other arm over his shoulders and together they maneuvered him to the side of the bed.

"OK, we're here. Just stand still a second," Sarah said softly, as she turned down the covers, and Harry went back to the door. "Sit," she said, and the Doctor sat, then swung his long legs awkwardly up onto the bed and lay his bandaged head back on the pillow. Sarah pulled the covers up over him and gave Harry a nod.

Harry opened the door. Groucho's face, sober and wide-eyed, appeared. "My brothers came too. Is that okay? They wanted to thank him too."

"Erm..." Harry looked at Sarah, who shrugged slightly. "Sure. Come on in. Just...if he gets tired, I'll have to ask you all to leave. You understand."

"Of course," Groucho said. He came in the room, followed by his brothers.

Sarah almost forgot to breathe again. If she hadn't been so concerned about the Doctor, and getting him through this, she would have...well, she didn't know what she would have done. Fainted again, probably. But this time out of sheer excitement. To have four of the Marx brothers, the Marxes before the world knew them, in their early to mid-twenties, in the flesh, in the same room with her, not on stage, not on a movie or television screen, but the live, real men...

She had to stop thinking about it. Had to just look at them as four nice young men that she'd recently met. Leo, Arthur, Julius and Milton. Right. Nice boys. Concerned about the Doctor. The Doctor. Right. Focus on the Doctor.

She blew out a breath and turned wide eyes to Harry, who grinned at her over the Marx boys' heads. She almost grinned back, but at the last moment realized how inappropriate that would be for the mother of a dearly loved and wounded son. She almost broke her face changing the grin to a look of sober concern at light speed, but she somehow managed it.

The Marx boys stood awkwardly, caps in hands, staring at the bandages on the Doctor's head with the guilty fascination humans reserve for major injuries and accidents.

"Is he...?" Groucho asked softly.

Sarah nodded. "He's awake," she answered, equally softly. "He's just...sort of disoriented. The bullet grazed his skull. Harry says his brain's swollen." Groucho's eyes went even wider at that, and Sarah hurried to reassure him. "He'll be fine, Julie. Harry says it's perfectly normal. Right, Harry?" She threw Harry a _help me out here_ look.

"Right," Harry said, as he stepped around the Marxes and perched carefully on the foot of the bed. "Very common with head trauma."

"Why are his eyes bandaged?" asked Leo. "Is he blind?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "The swelling is putting pressure on his optic nerve. Makes his eyes very sensitive to light. The bandages are just protecting his eyes until he gets better."

The Marxes all nodded, then stood awkwardly in silence again.

Groucho took a step closer to the bed. "Erm. Doctor?" he said, tentatively, looking at Sarah.

"Julie?" the Doctor said in an unfeigned shaky voice. He raised his arm and reached out unsteadily in Groucho's general direction. Groucho, after a moment's hesitation, caught and held his wavering hand and steadied his arm.

"I'm here. My brothers, too," he said.

"Hello, boys," said the Doctor, with a try at a cheery tone that didn't even come close to succeeding.

Leo, Arthur and Milton chorused subdued "Hi's" and "Hi, Doc's" and a few tension-generated and tension-dissipating chuckles.

"I...we...just wanted to see how you were. And to thank you. You saved my life," Groucho said.

The Doctor started to shake his head, then stopped with a small gasp and held his head perfectly still. "I didn't. Julie. Really." He licked his lips, then continued, his speech disjointed. "That man. Probably. Wouldn't have shot. Anyone. My fault. Thick. Of me. Scared him."

"Well," Groucho said, looking at the Doctor with his one-day-to-be-iconic eyebrows furrowed. "He might have shot me. And he definitely would have robbed me." He glanced around at his brothers, and they all nodded. "So far as I'm concerned, you saved my life." He took a tighter hold on the Doctor's hand. "You took a bullet for me. Just like a hero in a novel," he said, sounding awed.

"Wasn't the plan," the Doctor said truthfully, and they all laughed.

Just then, there was another knock at the door, which had stood ajar since the Marxes' arrival. "Police," said an officer, rather unnecessarily in light of his uniform. "We're here to see John Sullivan."

Harry stood. "This is my son, John," he said, indicating the Doctor. "But he's been injured. This might not be the best time."

The officer glanced at the four Marx brothers. "Seems to be up to company," he stated flatly, as he and his partner entered the room.

Harry moved around the end of the bed to make room for them. "This is starting to feel like the stateroom scene," he whispered in Sarah's ear, almost making her lose her composure. "You suppose this is where they got the idea?"

She just darted him an amused glance, which she hoped no one else noticed.

"Now, Mr. Sullivan," the officer said, as Groucho released the Doctor's hand and he and his brothers shuffled a respectful distance away from the police. "What can you tell us about what happened last night?"

"Officer," Sarah interjected gently. "He has a head injury. He's very disoriented. It would be much easier for him if you ask him more specific questions."

The officer glared at her, then looked at Harry and addressed him. "Is this so?" he asked.

Harry looked at Sarah, then back at the officer. "If my wife says it's so, then it's so," he said. "You don't need me to confirm it."

The officer gave a disapproving sniff, and Sarah suddenly realized that, although she had taken time to change into her 1913 clothing while the Doctor got into his jimjams, she had forgotten to pin up her hair. She quickly pulled it back into a ponytail and tied it in a knot, feeling absurdly ashamed.

"Mr. Sullivan," the officer continued, addressing the Doctor.

When he didn't respond, Sarah knelt by the bedside and gently put a hand on his shoulder. "That's you," she whispered.

"What? Right. I knew that," the Doctor said. The Marx brothers laughed.

The police did not. "Were you present at an attempted robbery last night in an alleyway off Green Street?" asked the interrogating officer.

"Yes," the Doctor said.

"And who was the intended victim of that robbery?"

"Julie," the Doctor said.

"Who?"

"Me. Julius Marx. Julie to my friends," said Groucho.

"This man?" the officer said to the Doctor, nodding toward Groucho.

"He can't see you," Sarah said gently, trying hard to keep the _how thick are you?_ tone out of her voice.

"Julie Marx. Him. Yes," the Doctor said. His jaw muscles bunched and his breathing started to get a bit ragged. He reached out a hand blindly toward Sarah, who grasped it tightly, anchoring him with her touch.

"Can you describe the robber?"

"Five eight. Dark. Brown hair. Thin. Wavy. Scar. Caucasian. Man thin. Not hair thin. Thick hair. Left cheek scar. Derringer. Single shot. Forty-five. Gun. Not the man. Man. Thirties. Wavy. Hair. Ah. Said that. Ear. Left. Notched. Like. Bitten. Teeth. Left. Incisor. Lower. Missing. Tobacco stained. Mustache. Mole. Chin. Cleft."

The policemen's eyebrows went up and kept going up as the Doctor gasped out more and more details. "Observant," the interrogating officer said.

"Photographic memory," Sarah said.

"Are you getting all this down, Fred?" The officer turned to his partner, who was desperately scribbling in a pad.

"If you could slow him down a bit..." Fred said.

"Doctor," Sarah said quietly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "That's enough."

She could see the muscles in his cheeks quivering now. "Sarah. I. TARDIS. Help," he gasped.

Sarah stood up. "Right. That's it. He's had enough. Everyone please leave. Now," she said emphatically, eyes blazing, as they all stared at her but no one moved. "Harry?"

"You heard her. Officers. Boys," he said, sternly to the police, more gently to the Marxes. The Marx boys exited the room quickly, the police under protest, but Harry had them all firmly ushered out within less than ten seconds.

As soon as the room door closed, Sarah threw the covers off the Doctor and helped him to his feet. The trip to the TARDIS was, thankfully, much shorter this time than it had been the night before, but it was nearly as surreal, as the Doctor wavered and stumbled his way to the sanctuary of his timeship with her help.

Once they were through the doors of the TARDIS, he grasped the railing tightly, leaned on it and sucked in air in great gasping breaths. Sarah stood by him, one hand on his back.

"I thought you were joking when you said that about forming coherent sentences," she said when his breathing started to return to normal.

He pushed the bandages up onto his forehead and looked at her with stunned eyes. "I was," he said. He shook his head and blew out a big breath. "That was just...way beyond weird." He looked up at the TARDIS doors, his eyes still huge and completely dilated. "Where's Harry?"

Sarah looked at the doors, too. "He must have gone with them. To make sure they left."

The Doctor's eyes roamed gratefully around the inside of the console room for a moment. Then he turned and climbed the ramp. He headed off through the archway and Sarah followed him to the infirmary. There, he swung a monitor screen up and touched a few spots on it, then placed his left hand on an amber square that was embedded in the counter.

His hand sank halfway into the square as if it were made of gelatin, and a graphic appeared on the screen.

"What's that?" Sarah asked.

"Me," he said simply. "She's scanning me. For damage."

Sarah looked at the graphic and saw a myriad of red spots throughout, with a larger cluster of red on the left side of the figure's abdomen.

The Doctor pointed at the cluster. "That's the gunshot wound. About 95% healed now."

Sarah took that in as she kept watching the screen. The smaller red dots were winking out, one by one, seemingly at random. "What are those?" she asked.

"Not sure," he said, touching the screen and zooming in on the image. He worked in silence for a minute, then said, "Oh."

"Oh?" Sarah echoed. "You know what they are?"

He looked at her. "Microtears in my DNA."

She frowned. "That doesn't sound good."

"Told you it felt like I was being ripped apart," he said, looking back at the screen. "Didn't realize how close to the truth I was."


	11. Chapter 11

Sarah frowned at the screen. "Why are they going out? Are you...?" She looked up at him, concern in her eyes.

He smiled reassurance at her. "I'm healing. Now that I'm back in the TARDIS, the tears are mending themselves."

"Oh." She looked back at the screen. "Good. So it didn't do you any permanent harm, being out there?"

He raised his eyebrows and pooched out his bottom lip. "Doesn't seem to have," he said, as he continued to watch the red dots blink out on the screen. He reached absent-mindedly into his pyjama top, then frowned down at himself.

"What?" she asked, noticing.

"Glasses," he said. He glanced down at his left hand, still embedded in the gel square, then gave Sarah a sidelong look.

"Where are they?" she asked, grinning.

"My suit jacket."

"Be right back," she said.

By the time she returned with his glasses, there were just a handful of red dots left on the graphic. He slipped the glasses on and peered intently at the screen, then started working with the image.

A knock echoed through the TARDIS.

"Must be Harry," Sarah said. "You want me to..." She nodded toward the door, and he gave her a _what do you think?_ look over the tops of his glasses. "Erm, right, s'pose so," she said with a mischievous grin as she turned and left the infirmary.

*********

"Sam was out there. In the lobby. Along with most of the company," Harry said a few minutes later when they all reconvened in the console room. The Doctor had changed out of his pyjamas and into his pin-striped trousers and blue shirt and was working busily at the TARDIS console computer screen, glasses perched on the end of his nose. Harry watched him for a moment, then went on. "They all wanted to know how you were. You've really made an impression here in a short time," he said.

"We," the Doctor said pointedly, without looking up.

Harry acknowledged the amendment with a nod, then continued. "Not to mention Groucho telling everyone how you saved his life." The Doctor threw him a wry glance, then went back to work. "Had to tell them you wouldn't be able to go on. We," he corrected himself when the Doctor flashed him a look. "...wouldn't be able to go on. Not until you're better anyway. Tried to make it sound like a short-term thing, hoping they'd let us stay with them on the circuit."

"And?" Sarah asked.

Harry grinned at her. "And...you're now looking at the new company doctor," he said. The Doctor and Sarah both stared at him with raised eyebrows. "Groucho told Sam I was a doctor, and Sam said he'd always wanted to have a doctor to travel with the show and take care of the players and if I were interested, he'd keep us on. At lesser pay, of course," he added. "At least until you're better and we can start doing our acts again."

The Doctor turned away from the console, leaned back against it, took off his glasses, crossed his arms and legs and looked at his companions with a slight frown. "Sarah?" he asked. "In all your research into vaudeville, did you ever hear of any show having a company doctor?"

"Never," she said.

"Didn't think so," Harry said. "That's what I meant. When I said you...we...had made an impression."

"Well. It's very kind of him," Sarah said.

Harry nodded. "That's the good news." They waited for him to go on. "The bad news is that we're still moving on to the next engagement at the end of the week. Kansas City. Ten hours by train."

"Ten hours," Sarah repeated. She looked at the Doctor. "You can't be out there for ten hours. You'll have to stay in the TARDIS."

"And how are we going to explain that?" Harry asked. "We're shipping our injured son by freight? In our trunk?"

Sarah stared at him. "I don't suppose we could get away with saying it was an English custom," she said, wrinkling her nose.

Harry just shook his head.

"Can't we take him another way?" she asked, looking up at the Doctor, whose dark eyes had gone darker with thought. "Say the motion and noise of the train would be too much for him? In his condition? And meet up with them in Kansas City?"

"And take him there by....?" Harry asked.

"TARDIS?" she said, looking at the Doctor.

He shook his head. "Not in the middle of a time slip. No guarantees where or when we'd end up. Or what fresh damage we'd do to the timestrand."

Sarah blew out a breath. "Private jet?" she suggested in a very small voice.

"Mmm hmm," Harry said.

"Well, even if we had to go by horse and buggy," she said, "At least he could stay in the TARDIS."

"And we'd get there about the time the company left for the next city," Harry said.

"We don't have to take the same train as the rest of the group, do we?" the Doctor said, his voice low and thoughtful. "We could go ahead. Or follow behind. And if no one on the train knows us, then no one would think twice about the two of you travelling without me. And I could stay in the TARDIS."

Harry and Sarah looked at each other, then at the Doctor. "Could work," Harry said. He frowned at the Doctor as a new thought occurred to him. "Will you be okay in here if we're moving her around manually?

The Doctor smiled reassuringly. "She has internal stabilizers. Should be fine." Then he gave Harry a sober look. "Do try not to drop her."

******

The Doctor spent the rest of the day in the TARDIS, monitoring and analysing the time slip, while Sarah fended off well-wishers at the boarding house room door. Harry was out until evening, tending to various minor injuries and illnesses of fellow players in the company.

"So how's family medicine, 1913-style?" Sarah asked when he returned.

"A challenge," Harry admitted. "I keep wanting to prescribe pharmaceuticals that don't exist yet and order tests that haven't been developed yet."

Sarah gave him a commiserating smile. "I'm sure even without modern drugs and equipment they'll get better care from you than they would from a 1913 doctor."

"Certainly hope so," Harry agreed. "You know, they may not usually have a company doctor, but they apparently need one. Or else everyone thinks since Sam is paying me they might as well take advantage and not just doctor themselves, the way they ordinarily would."

"Or they want to pump you for details about what happened last night," Sarah said.

"There's some of that," Harry agreed, nodding. "Bit of excitement. Sounds like it's grown in the telling, too. Last I heard," he said, looking at the Doctor, "You fought off three gunmen with your bare hands and it was only the fourth who managed to bring you down with a lucky shot."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

"Chip off the old block, I tell them" Harry went on with a grin. It was Sarah's turn to roll her eyes and click her tongue at that. "What, we're not supposed to be proud of our son, the hero?" Harry asked her, mock-seriously.

"I'm more concerned about getting our son the hero to Kansas City safely," Sarah said, giving the Doctor a quick smile. "Did you find out about the train schedules?"

"Didn't have a chance. I'll do that in the morning," he said.

********

Harry was beaming when he came back to the TARDIS the next day. He waved two train tickets at Sarah and the Doctor triumphantly.

"Got our transport secured then?" Sarah asked.

"Yes, and the perfect excuse not to travel with the group," he said.

"What's that?" the Doctor asked.

"All the sleeping car berths are booked on the train the company's taking," Harry answered. "Obviously, we need a berth for our injured boy. Can't expect you to sit up for ten hours in your condition."

The Doctor looked thoughtful, then nodded. "Good," he said. "Makes sense."

"Are we going ahead or after?" Sarah asked, looking at the tickets.

"After. I debated about that," Harry said. "I was afraid someone from the company would want to see us off if we left first. Going after, we'll only have to worry about getting into the new boarding house without having to explain where John is." He looked at the Doctor. "Might have to actually put in an appearance as we arrive at the new digs," he said apologetically. "But I'll arrange a wheelchair for you if it comes to that."

Just then, a knock sounded through the TARDIS. "I'll go," Sarah volunteered. "You just got back."

Sarah exited the TARDIS, glanced at the bed where they had arranged a bolster under the covers and a mannequin's head wrapped in bandages on the pillow, then opened the room door a crack. She smiled when she saw Groucho's earnest face, and slipped quickly out the door, closing it behind her. "Hello, Julie," she said.

"Hi, Sarah," he said, a bit bashfully. "How's the Doctor today?"

"He's much better," she said, putting on a brave face.

Groucho nodded. "Good. Well, don't worry about your things at the theatre. Your props and costumes. We'll make sure they get on the train."

Sarah looked at him gratefully. "I hadn't even thought about that, Julie. Thank you."

He fairly glowed at her thanks. "And here..." he said, handing her three pieces of paper.

"What's this?" she asked, looking at them, eyebrows furrowing as she saw what they were.

"It's your tickets for tomorrow. My brothers and I bought them for you." He looked down and kicked the floor with the toe of his shoe. "I know things were a little tight for you. Before you hired on. Since you hadn't been working. And now that Sam's cut your pay..." He looked up at Sarah without lifting his head. "We wanted to help out. Since the Doctor saved my life and all."

"Oh, Julie. You shouldn't have," Sarah said. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Really. You shouldn't have."

He grinned. "Of course we should have. And look," he said, pointing at the tickets. "We got you sleeping car berths. Couldn't have the Doctor sitting up all that way. And of course you and Harry would want to stay with him." His grin grew wider. "Got the last three available."

********

"What could I tell him?" Sarah asked plaintively. "He was so happy to be able to do something nice for us." She had just showed the new train tickets to the Doctor and Harry and explained where they had come from.

Harry rubbed his cheek thoughtfully, then looked at the Doctor. "Your call, Doctor. You're the only one who knows if you can handle being out there for ten hours."

The Doctor ruffled his hair distractedly. "With the sensory overload of the train noise and motion on top of the time chaos?" He sighed deeply. "I think I'd arrive in Kansas City stark staring mad."

"Not to mention the physical damage," Sarah said. Harry looked questioningly at her and she explained. "Being outside the TARDIS causes microtears in his DNA."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "That's one they didn't cover in uni." He looked at the Doctor. "What exactly does that mean?"

The Doctor frowned. "The time slip disrupts my time sense. That's a physical part of me, coded into my DNA. The ripping apart of time rips that part of me, too."

"Permanently?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No. It mends once I'm out of the slip. I'm fine now."

"What if you were out in it for ten hours? Would the damage become irreversible at some point?" Harry asked.

The Doctor didn't answer immediately, just crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes unfocussed, his face grim. "I don't know," he finally said. He looked up at Harry and one corner of his mouth turned up. "They didn't cover that in the Academy, either."

"What would happen to you? If it were permanent? Would it..." She couldn't finish the question.

"Kill me?" he asked. She nodded. "Oh, I don't think so," he said. His eyes went dark again. "Would probably just destroy my time sense."

"Just?" Sarah echoed in surprise.

"Yeah," the Doctor said shortly.

"But..you said before...your time sense is who you are. It's what makes you a Time Lord."

"Yeah," the Doctor said again, quietly.

Sarah stared at him, horrified. "Would it come back? Next time you regenerate?"

The Doctor looked at her, his eyes dark and brooding. "I don't know, Sarah. I don't even know if I could regenerate if my DNA were permanently damaged." He sighed. "I'll run some probability analyses through the TARDIS medical databases. See what the risks might be."

"But even if you decide it's worth the risk, DNA-wise, we can't have you going mental," Harry said.

The Doctor gave a grim chuckle. "I'd prefer not to," he agreed.

"Maybe it won't be so bad for you tomorrow," Sarah suggested. "You said it was much worse when it first happened than it was three weeks out. So wouldn't it be at least a bit better two days out?"

"In theory," the Doctor said. "If all things had remained the same. Yes."

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "They haven't?"

He shook his head. "No. Seems our being here...interrupting the robbery..._has _had an effect on the time slip."

"A positive one?"

He raised one eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. "Depends on your point of view. The timestrands are running more nearly parallel, staying closer together, than they did before."

"That sounds like a good thing," Sarah said.

"It is, in terms of minimizing the impact of the slip. If we can't fix it entirely, we may have at least tweaked it enough to save Groucho already."

"You can't tell?"

He shook his head. "We'd have to go back to 1963 to be sure. Or at least 1931. And if we did, and found out it wasn't enough, we couldn't come back for another try."

Sarah blew out a breath. "And I suppose the fact that the time strands are staying closer together means it's going to be just as hard on you out there as it was two days ago."

He gave her a wry smile. "Got it in one."

"What if we knock you out?" Harry asked. "Would that help?"

The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed. "How do you plan to do that?"

Harry grinned. "Not by a cricket bat to the head, if that's what you're worried about," he said. "I was thinking a medically induced coma. You have any Time Lord anaesthetics in your medical stores on the TARDIS?"

"Not much use for them on a one-man ship," the Doctor answered, shaking his head. "Never carried them. Even if I needed surgery, once I knocked myself out, I wouldn't be awake to operate on myself."

"And I don't suppose human anaesthetics work on you?" Harry asked.

"Might do. I'd have to check. What's available in this time period?"

"Nitrous oxide, ether, chloroform," Harry said. He stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's all I can remember that go back this far."

The Doctor nodded. "I'll look them up in the medical database, too," he said.

******************

"So, what's the verdict?" Sarah asked the Doctor. She was perched on the exam table watching him work on the infirmary computer. She had left him alone for several hours to focus on his research undisturbed, but her curiosity had finally overruled her patience.

"DNA-wise? It's an acceptable risk," he answered, still looking at the monitor screen.

"What exactly does that mean?" she asked, frowning.

He gave her a very direct look. "It means it's an acceptable risk."

She met his eyes for a long moment. "Which means you've decided to do it."

He nodded. "Don't see any way around it." He gave the keyboard a final click, then turned to face her.

"What about Harry's idea? About putting you under?"

"It's a good one," he replied. "I think it's the only way I could tolerate the trip."

"And 1913 earthly anaesthetics?"

The Doctor quirked his lips to one side. "Are all inhalant-based. Which is a problem."

"Why?"

"Because my respiratory system automatically bypasses noxious gasses. Which these are. Or at least my body will think they are. So I'll have to be in control of myself enough to consciously bypass the bypass and inhale the gas."

"But they will work on you? Once they actually get where they need to go?"

"Should do," he said. "I'll shake off the effects faster than a human. Higher metabolic rate. More efficient detox system. So Harry may have to redose me more often than he would a human to keep me under."

"OK, wait, back up a sec. What if you're too disoriented to bypass your bypass system?"

He stared at her intently, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. "Sarah Jane Smith," he finally said earnestly. "If you ever doubted how much I trust you...." He broke off mid-sentence and shook his head. "No. I can't. I just can't." He ran both hands through his hair, leaving it in wild disarray.

Sarah's eyebrows furrowed. "Can't what?"

He compressed his lips and fixed his eyes on her again. "You asked about acupressure points. Before. There are some. That can...disable me."

"Knock you out?" she asked. He nodded. "OK, that's good. A backup plan in case the gas doesn't work." He nodded again, but didn't look happy. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked after a moment.

"You could do more than disable me," he said.

"Oh," she said. She took a moment to think through the implications, then looked at him. "How hard would it be to do it safely?"

"Not hard. You'd have to mean to do me harm to get it wrong," he said.

"Then show me how to do it. Just right. You know I'll be careful."

He nodded. "I know you would." His eyes grew wide and he massaged the back of his neck. "I can't believe I'm even considering showing you this." He looked down at her. "It's not something Time Lords share with other species."

"You said you trusted me," Sarah said softly, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.

"I do, Sarah Jane. You know I do. That's why I was ready to tell you." He looked at her and she saw fear in his eyes. "And then I thought... Sarah. I have enemies. You know that. What if one of them found out? That you knew a way to...disable me?"

"I'd never tell anyone," she said, with as much conviction as she could put into her voice.

His brown eyes studied her. "I don't want to think about what they could do to you to get you to tell."

She shook her head. "What are the odds, Doctor? How could anyone know?" He just looked at her, his eyes grim. She gave him a tight smile. "If you can decide something is an acceptable risk, so can I." She returned his gaze steadily for a moment. Then her features relaxed into a smile. "Besides, you worry too much."

One corner of his mouth quirked up as his stern gaze also relaxed. "About you? I can never worry too much." Another second passed before he sighed and said, "Come here."

He showed her exactly where to place her fingers, one hand on his back between his shoulder blades, the other over his sternum. "Good. Now. Apply pressure. Gradually."

She started to do as requested, then stopped. "If this works, you're going to land on the floor, aren't you?"

"You're not going to put me all the way out," he said. "At least, that's not the plan. Just apply pressure very gradually and I'll tell you when to stop."

Sarah applied pressure to the points he had shown her. Within seconds, she saw his eyelids droop and felt his body begin to go limp under her hands.

"Good. Stop," he whispered. She stopped, and he straightened up and blinked a few times. "OK, shake your hands out, and then see if you can find the points on your own."

They practiced until he was satisfied that she knew how to find the exact pressure points and exactly how long and hard to press on them to knock him out.

"You don't need to worry about your enemies learning that technique," she told him as they left the infirmary.

"I don't?" he asked, surprised.

"No," she said, her face serious but a glint of mischief in her eyes. "How would a Dalek sucker arm manage that?"

His lips twitched. "Hard to imagine."

"And Sontarans don't have enough fingers," she went on.

"True."

"And Cybermen don't have the manual dexterity for it, with their clumsy metal hands."

He was grinning now. "Why was I worried?" he asked.

"Can't imagine," she said.


	12. Chapter 12

They didn't have to hire anyone to move the TARDIS this time. The Marx brothers, the Dancing Ardinis, Silas the Strongman, and nearly every other man in the company turned out to help. The TARDIS, bless her vortex, cooperated without the Doctor having to scold her into it, and slipped out the room door with ease.

Harry had borrowed a wheel chair for the Doctor, and, just before their friends showed up to move the TARDIS, he and Sarah helped the Time Lord step out of his ship and into the chair, his eyes again covered with protective bandaging. His hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he didn't say anything.

_It's so not like him to give up control,_ Sarah thought as they walked to the railway station, her eyes never leaving the Doctor. _And for him to accept it so passively. It must really be bad out here for him._ Harry was pushing the chair, and she was walking by the Doctor's side, one hand on his shoulder to reassure him and, she hoped, to help ground him.

"Not exactly disabled access," Harry muttered when they arrived at the side of the train and he looked at the steep, narrow steps that they would have to negotiate to board the car. The station master assured them the wheelchair would be returned to its owner as they helped the Doctor to stand, draped his arms around their shoulders and wrapped their arms around his waist.

"Sarah. Let me." Groucho gently moved her aside as he took the Doctor's arm from her shoulders and draped it over his own. Sarah had been so focussed on the Doctor that she hadn't even noticed Groucho's approach. She stood back now and watched as he and Harry half-guided, half-carried the disoriented Time Lord up the steps.

Once they got the Doctor settled into a berth, Sarah perched on the edge, clasping the Doctor's hand tightly between hers, while Harry prepared to put him under. Groucho stood behind Sarah, frowning worriedly down at the scene.

"What's Harry doing?" Groucho asked Sarah softly.

She turned and looked up at him. "He's going to put the Doctor to sleep for the journey," she explained, equally softly. "He'd never be able to rest otherwise, and, well, Harry thought this would be for the best." She gave him a smile that was meant to be reassuring. "We just want to make it as easy as possible for him. And not cause him a setback."

Groucho nodded, but didn't look reassured.

"Do what you need to do, Doctor," Harry said quietly as he got his stethoscope out and hung it around his neck. "I'll start the ether as soon as you're ready."

The Doctor took a shaky breath, then nodded his head slightly. "Go. Please."

"OK. I'm going to put a gauze pad over your nose and mouth. Just lightly." He suited his actions to his words, then uncapped the bottle of ether and drizzled some onto the pad. "Now. Deep breaths. Deep as you can."

The Doctor took one deep breath, then another, then another. Harry dripped more ether on the pad. Before long, Sarah felt the Doctor's hand relax and then go limp. Harry left the pad where it was while he put the stethoscope earpieces in his ears and pressed the bell to the Doctor's chest. He listened carefully, moved the bell to the other side of the Doctor's chest, and listened again. He gave Sarah a reassuring smile, took the stethoscope out of his ears and lifted the pad off the Doctor's face.

The Doctor's head rolled gently to the side.

"He's out," Harry said. He looked up at Groucho. "Thanks for your help getting him on the train, Julie."

Groucho shook his head. "Don't thank me. Glad I could do it." He looked wistfully at the stethoscope, still hanging around Harry's neck. "Wish I could do what you do," he added.

Harry gave him a bemused look. "What? Be an escapologist's assisant?"

"Be a doctor," Groucho said. "I always wanted to go into medicine, not show business."

Harry glanced at Sarah, who nodded her head very slightly. "No reason you couldn't do both," Harry said with a smile. "Look at me."

Groucho gave a little snort of derision. "Would be tough to get into medical school when I didn't even finish grade school."

Sarah reached up and squeezed his hand. "You can do anything you put your mind to, Julie. You're brilliant."

********

"Doctor! Doctor!" The frantic cry resounded through the car an hour later. The Doctor moved sluggishly in his drugged sleep, turning his head and moaning softly.

Harry and Sarah Jane exchanged astonished glances. They sat together on the bottom berth across the aisle from the Doctor, where they had been keeping a close eye on him. Groucho had gone to join his brothers in the club car after many assurances that everything was fine, and they would most definitely let him know if they needed anything.

"Doctor Sullivan!" The cry came again.

"Oh. _That_ doctor!" Harry said softly. Sarah laughed and shook her head. "Right here!" Harry called.

"Oh, thank God." Fritz Frelberger, the violinist, hurried down the aisle, his face creased with worry. "It's my wife. The baby. I think it's coming."

"Blimey," Harry said, so softly only Sarah could hear him. "Timing." He stood up and put his hands on the frantic father-to-be's shoulders. "I'm right here. Calm down. Let's go see her."

"Please," Fritz said, turning and hurrying back the way he came, looking over his shoulder at Harry and gesturing for him to follow.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Harry told Sarah. "Call me if he starts to wake up."

Sarah gave him an eyebrows-up questioning look as she mimed putting a phone to her ear. "You know what I mean," he said with a crooked grin, then disappeared in the wake of the agitated violinist.

"Sarah?" The Doctor's voice was almost too soft to hear over the noise of the train. She looked at him, not sure if she had imagined it, and saw his hand rise weakly from the bed and reach out blindly.

"Blimey, timing indeed," she said softly, as she quickly crossed the aisle, sat on the edge of the berth, and took his hand. "I'm here. Harry had to go help someone. But he'll be right back. Are you...?"

"Not so bad," he said. "Manageable. Enough of the drug's still in my system. Should be okay for another minute."

Sarah looked up and down the aisle, hoping to see someone she recognized and could send for Harry. She knew a minute wasn't going to be enough if Mrs. Fritz really was in labor.

"How much longer?" the Doctor asked.

"Till what?"

"Kansas City."

"Oh." She breathed out a sigh. "Long time, I'm afraid. We've only been travelling an hour or so." Even with his expressive eyes and eyebrows covered in bandages, she could see the disappointment appear on his face. "Hold on. We'll get you there."

He nodded and licked his lips. Sarah looked up the aisle where Harry had disappeared, willing him to come back.

Suddenly, he appeared at the far end of the car, headed her way, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"He's awake," she said, as soon as he was within earshot.

"Doctor?" Harry said, crouching by the berth. "How are you doing?"

"Cricket bat to the head's starting to sound good," the Doctor responded, his breathing gone ragged.

"Still able to bypass that bypass system of yours?" Harry asked as he got out the ether and gauze and put on his stethescope.

"Think so."

"Go for it," Harry said. He waited for the Doctor to nod, then repeated the earlier procedure.

Sarah didn't realize, until the Doctor relaxed back into sleep, how much sympathetic tension had been building up in her body. She stood up, shook her arms, rolled her head from side to side and blew out a breath.

"You need a shot of ether too, old girl?" Harry asked with a grin.

She shook her head at him with affectionate exasperation and decided to let the 'old girl' slide this time. "How's Mrs. Fritz?" she asked.

"Pregnant."

"Got that bit," she said.

"Very pregnant," Harry elaborated. He sighed, growing serious. "She's a tiny little thing and the baby is huge. First baby. Of course. I reckon well past due. If I had her at home, I'd have induced her two weeks ago."

"_Is_ she in labor?" Sarah asked, concerned.

Harry nodded. "Early stages. Or could be false labor brought on by the motion of the train. That's what I'm hoping, anyway."

She grinned. "Navy doctors don't deliver a lot of babies, do they?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "More now than we used to," he said. "But there's no way that baby's coming out the way God intended. And I really don't want to have to do a C-section on a moving train." He looked down at the Doctor, then back up at Sarah, and his face was sober. "Maybe I should show you how to put him under. Just in case."

She nodded. "Looks pretty simple. What do I need to know to make sure I'm doing it right?"

Harry gave her a quick course in elementary anaesthetics, and how to monitor the Doctor's respiration and dual pulses to try to determine how deeply he was under. "Course, given he's a..." He glanced around the car, noticing other passengers. "You know. It's something of a guessing game as to what's normal."

"You seem to have guessed pretty well so far," she said with a grateful smile.

"Didn't waste my time in the TARDIS this trip, did I?" he said softly. "I'm not saying everything I read made complete sense to me, but I do have a little more knowledge of what makes him tick than I used to."

Harry spent the next few hours shuttling back and forth between his patients. The Doctor's system seemed to be adapting to throw off the effects of the ether with ever-increasing speed and efficiency, forcing Harry to up the dosage each time to achieve the same duration of effect. Mrs. Fritz's labor increasingly seemed less and less false.

"Sarah," Harry said earnestly, taking her hands and looking her in the eyes. He had just returned to their car from another, much longer, visit with Mrs. Fritz. He took a deep breath before he continued. "That girl's not going to make it without help."

"You _are_ helping her," Sarah said.

He shook his head. "It's not enough. The baby needs to come out. Soon. Very soon."

She searched his eyes. "You're going to do a C-section on a moving train? You said..."

"I know what I said. And I still say it."

"Then...?" Sarah asked, confused by his uncharacteristic hesitation.

He set his jaw and continued. "I've got to take her off the train." He hurried on in spite of Sarah's shocked expression. "There's a small town just ten minutes ahead. They have a doctor's office." He ran his fingers through his curly dark hair. "God knows what it will be like. But with any luck, they'll have scalpels and sutures and something I can use to sterilize everything."

"You're getting off the train," Sarah said softly, disbelievingly. "In the middle of nowhere. In 1913."

He nodded. "I'll catch up. It's not like we're on an alien planet. I can take care of myself." His eyes softened. "More importantly. I have a patient to take care of."

"Two," Sarah said plaintively.

"Three, actually," Harry said, giving her a crooked smile. He nodded at the Doctor. "He has you. The other two only have me. And one of them isn't going to get a chance at life without my help."

Sarah sighed deeply. "Of course. You have to help her. Them," Sarah said. She ran her hands down his upper arms and smiled what she hoped was a brave smile. "It's not like we're on Skaro in the middle of a war or anything."

His lips twitched. "No. It's not."

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. "I just always hated it when we got separated. Back then. I always worried about you," she said, her voice muffled by his coat.

"You did?" he said, sounding pleasantly surprised and looking down at her.

She loosened her hold on him so she could look up into his face. "You didn't think I did?"

He grinned. "I was too busy worrying about you to wonder what you were thinking," he said. He glanced over her shoulder at something behind her and then, before she could turn and see what he was looking at, he bent down and gave her a very husbandly kiss. Not a long-married-off-to-work-see-you-later-dear husbandly kiss. Oh no. More of a recently-married-oh-God-I-can-barely-stand-to-leave-you husbandly kiss.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said softly when he was through kissing her. He flashed her a grin as she just stood there, saucer-eyed, staring at him. "Take care of her for me, Julie," he called over her shoulder. He glanced down at the Doctor. "Take care of both of them."

"You betcha, Doc." Sarah heard Groucho's voice behind her and she whirled to face him. He grinned at her, and she felt her face grow even hotter than it had done in response to Harry's unexpected kiss. She whirled back around just in time to see Harry disappear down the aisle.

"You need anything, Sarah?" Groucho asked. "Anything I can do?"

Sarah wasn't quite sure what she needed at the moment. "Erm. No. I think we're fine, Julie. Thanks, though."

**********

The next five hours seemed to Sarah to take at least twice that to pass. The Doctor woke more and more frequently as his body grew ever more resistant to the ether. Even more worrisome was the fact that the time distortion seemed to become slightly less unbearable for him as the hours dragged by. He had always had a few moments of relative clarity as he came out of the anaesthesia, when the drug was still dulling his senses, but these moments lasted longer as the trip wore on. Sarah was terrified that this meant his time sense was being permanently destroyed as his DNA was irreparably damaged by this extended--interminable, she corrected herself--exposure to the time slip. But as nothing could be done about it at this point, she kept her fears to herself.

The Doctor attributed his improved tolerance of the chaos to his own efforts. "Been trying to get it under control," he said during one waking period. "Practicing aikido. Mental discipline. Since I'm stuck out in it anyway."

"Want me to help?" Sarah asked.

"Oh no," he said. "Thanks, but...I don't want you sharing this. The slip, I mean. What it feels like."

"Maybe it wouldn't affect me. Just like the time slip doesn't."

"And maybe it would. Not an acceptable risk."

She smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Isn't that my decision?" she asked softly.

"Not this time," he said. "Mine."

When he realized she had been the one administering the anaesthetic the past few times, he asked about Harry.

"He has another patient he's taking care of. A lady having a baby."

"Oh," the Doctor said. "Well. As long as he doesn't wander off."

Sarah was glad he couldn't see her face as she proceeded to send him back to blessed oblivion.

The ether ran out when they were still at least an hour from Kansas City, but as it had stopped working on him entirely by then it was no great loss. The first time Sarah had to use what she couldn't help thinking of as the Vulcan Nerve Pinch to knock him out, she was inwardly shaking, afraid that she hadn't remembered it right, that she might harm him inadvertently. But when he relaxed under her hands, and she knew she had helped him escape the turmoil of his senses, she felt nothing but gratitude.

When he came back to consciousness ten minutes later, she realized she'd been a bit tentative after all.

"Just...press a little harder, Sarah. And hold it a little longer," he directed her.

She pressed harder and held it longer, then quickly pulled out the stethoscope Harry had left with her to check his hearts and respiration. Everything seemed in order, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

In fact, she had succeeded so brilliantly this time that he was still unconscious when they pulled into Kansas City. Before she could begin to panic about how to get him off the train in this condition, Groucho and his brothers appeared. They arranged a stretcher from somewhere, carefully carried the Doctor off the train and placed him in the back of a wagon. Sarah insisted on staying in the back with him, despite all of the brothers' protests that she should have the seat next to the driver. When they pulled up in front of the boarding house where the company would be staying, Groucho helped her descend from the wagon bed without too much loss of decorum, and they carried the Doctor in.

The lady who ran this rooming house put up a bit of a protest when she saw the Doctor's bandaged, unconscious form, pointing out rather sharply that this was a lodging establishment and not a hospital. The brothers, who obviously knew her well from previous visits, explained the situation. Sarah's reassurances that the Doctor wasn't always like this, that it was just a temporary condition and that yes, he was part of the show, finally convinced her to check them in. She even gave them a first floor room, fortunately, in light of the fact that the boys would have to carry the Doctor to it.

Sarah could hardly wait to get the Doctor into the sanctuary of that room. But when she did, when the Marx brothers put the stretcher down on one side of the bed and carefully transferred the Doctor's limp form to the other side, she looked around the room and suddenly slapped herself on the forehead.

"Sarah? What?" Groucho asked.

"The TAR...our trunk!" she said. She stared at Groucho, dumbfounded. She had been so busy worrying about the Doctor, and had grown so used to Harry being there to handle details like getting the TARDIS where it needed to go, that she hadn't spared a thought for it herself.

"What about it?" Groucho asked.

"We need it!" she cried. Seeing the look of consternation on his face, she quickly calmed herself. "John's medicine is in it," she said. Which was true, in a sense. "We just took enough with us for the journey. The rest is in there. And he needs it." Dear God, he needs it, she thought.

"We'll take care of it," Groucho said. "Don't worry."

Sarah did worry, though. After the brothers left, she worried and she paced and she checked on the Doctor and then she worried and paced some more. The fact that he was still out cold reassured her at first, but then as time passed became an added worry. Had she put him too far under? Would he ever wake up? Then she thought about Harry and found new reasons to worry. Would he be able to find them again? Would he end up stranded somewhere out in the middle of the Great Plains of the United States in 1913? Then she thought about Mrs. Fritz and her baby and managed to work up some worry for them and their welfare. And then there was the TARDIS. Where was she? Would they find her? They'd all be stranded in 1913 without her! Not to mention the Doctor. And the time slip. And...

She had worried herself into such a frazzle that, when she heard a knock on the door, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Julie, did you find it?" she asked as she opened the door and saw Groucho standing there. She looked up and down the hallway outside the room. Nothing. "Oh."

"It's not at the station," he said. "It may have been left on the train by mistake and gone on to the next stop."

"Oh," Sarah said again, sinking into an overstuffed chair. Wonderful, she thought. Even in 1913. Your luggage sometimes goes on a journey of its own without you.

"We're still checking, though. We'll get it back," he hurried to add.

She sighed deeply. "I know you will," she said, giving him a weak smile.

"Do you need anything? Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. "I don't think I'll be hungry again until the Doctor is better and Harry's back with us," she said.

"You need to eat, Sarah," he said, looking down at her with a worried frown. "It's not going to do them any good if you make yourself sick."

She looked up at him, looked deeply into his earnest brown eyes, now clouded with concern. And suddenly the worry all fell away, as the reason they were there jumped back into the forefront of her mind. This man. This amazingly brilliant and talented young man who stood before her, who would one day become Groucho Marx, star of Broadway, movies, radio and television, both as the best known member of the Marx Brothers' team and on his own. This man who was being so sweet and kind and attentive to her, whose name would one day be synonymous with sarcastic, biting wit.

She surprised both herself and him by standing up and giving him a heartfelt hug. "You have been so kind, Julie," she said, as she let go of him and took a step back. "I can't begin to tell you how much we appreciate you."

She was highly amused to see a flush of color rise up from his neck and spread across his face. "I made Groucho Marx blush," she thought. "That's one to add to my CV."


	13. Chapter 13

"Whoa! What are you doing hugging the married lady, brother? That's my job!"

Suddenly, Sarah found herself airborne in the arms of Chico Marx, who twirled her through three hundred and sixty degrees, grinning devilishly. He put her down and, before she could react, made a grand sweep of his arm toward the open door. "Look what we found! It was delivered to the theatre by mistake!"

She looked out the door and saw the TARDIS being dragged down the hallway in her direction. "Yes!" she cried, jumping and fist-pumping the air. "Oh," she said, less exuberantly as she saw the surprised looks in Groucho's and Chico's eyes. "It's an...English salute," she told them. "We do it when we're happy."

"Oh," said Groucho. "Then....yes!" He imitated her tone and her fist-pump to perfection and she had to laugh.

The TARDIS slipped through the door as if she'd been greased, and was soon sitting in a corner of the room. The men who had helped move her left, but Groucho and Chico still stood in front of Sarah, smiling expectantly.

She glanced at the TARDIS, then back at the two Marx brothers, then rummaged in her handbag. "Oh, no," she said after a second. She smiled up at them with what she hoped was a proper helpless-little-1913-woman smile. "Harry has the key!"

Groucho's face fell. He walked over to examine the TARDIS door. "Maybe we could get a locksmith in."

"It's an English lock," Sarah said quickly. "He probably wouldn't know how to open it." God, she hated lying to them. But she also couldn't let them see inside the TARDIS. "Is there any chance you could find out where Harry is? And if he's alright? And how Mrs. Fritz and the baby are?"

Chico looked at Groucho. "Where did they get off the train?"

"Wakeeney."

Chico pulled a face. "I don't think the phone lines have made it out there yet. But we could send a telegram."

"Oh, could you?" Sarah pleaded. "I'm so worried about him. Them. And if he isn't coming right away, maybe he could express the key?"

Chico and Groucho's eyebrows went up. "Express?"

"P-p-pony express," she stammered, wide-eyed. "Isn't that how you send things very fast in this country?"

They looked at each other and grinned. "It was. About fifty years ago," Chico said.

"If Harry can't come himself, he could send the key on the next train," Groucho said. "C'mon, Leo, let's see what we can do for the lady."

"Right," Chico said.

They left the room, and Sarah closed the door behind them. Then she pulled out her TARDIS key, opened the doors of the Doctor's ship, and stepped up to the side of the bed.

"Right." She addressed the Doctor's unconscious form firmly. "Never would have had a prayer of doing this in the old days. Let's see if I can manage it with this new lighter you." She slipped one arm under his back, the other under his knees, braced herself, and tried to lift him. "Ooof," she grunted, as she managed to get him about a quarter of an inch off the bed before his weight pulled her back down and nearly made her fall across him. She stood up, blew out a breath, stared at him for a moment, then looked around the room.

Aside from the overstuffed chair she had sat in earlier, there was a plain wooden chair. Neither had castors. She looked back at the Doctor, then took hold of his ankles and pulled until his legs were off the bed. She lowered his ankles until his legs were hanging off the bed, then gripped his wrists, pulling his upper body up off the bed. Quickly she shifted her position so that his arms were draped over her shoulders and she had her arms around his chest, hands locked behind his back. She tried to straighten up, bringing him with her.

"Right. That's not going to work," she thought as he sagged in her arms and she felt her grip on him weakening. She leaned forward and his weight again nearly pulled her down on top of him, but she managed to lay him gently back on the bed rather than drop him with a thud.

She stood up and looked at him again, frowning with thought. She bent down, grasped his ankles, and pulled and swivelled him until his legs were back up on the bed. Then she propped him up in a sitting position, sat down behind him, wrapped her arms around his chest and under his arms, and stood up.

He was heavy, for all his slimness, but she could just manage to move him this way. She backed slowly, a step at a time, toward the TARDIS, half-carrying, half-dragging him. His legs and feet fell off the bed with a thump and she nearly lost her grip on him, but gritted her teeth and told her muscles they had no choice in the matter, they had to do what she told them.

Another step backwards. And another. She looked over her shoulder and saw the TARDIS doors, wide open and welcoming, just behind her. Another few steps and she'd be there. Thank God she wouldn't have to drag him up the ramp--just getting him inside the doors would be enough for now. When Harry arrived, if the Doctor didn't wake up by then...

"Erm. Julie sent me to...see.....if....you.....I......"

She looked up, eyes wide, to see Harpo standing just inside the door, one hand still on the knob. His eyes were fixed on the TARDIS doors and the interior of the console room that was clearly visible from his vantage point.

"Arthur," she breathed. "Oh. Arthur." She sagged and the Doctor seemed destined for a crash-landing on the floor.

Harpo quickly stepped up to help her, grasping the Doctor around the chest and taking his weight from her.

Sarah ran to close the door behind him, then came back and slipped under one of the Doctor's arms. Harpo positioned himself under the other. "Help me get him inside," Sarah said, desperately, nodding toward the TARDIS.

"Inside," Harpo echoed, still staring wide-eyed--and nobody did wide-eyed like Harpo--at the TARDIS.

"Yes. Please." Sarah looked up at him, holding the image of his older self in her mind, willing him to somehow understand.

Harpo looked down at her, back at the TARDIS, then back down at her. "Okay," he said, sounding stunned, and took a step forward.

They got the Doctor up the ramp and to the console bench seat and stretched him out on it. His long legs hung off the end, but aside from that, he seemed safe and comfortable enough for the moment. Harpo was gazing around the interior of the console room, looking as if his eyes were about to pop out on little springs.

"Arthur," she said gently, laying a hand on his arm. He looked at her. "I know...oh, believe me, I know...just how...hard to believe this is." Harpo nodded, then went back to gawping at the console room. "But...one day...I don't know how or when it happens...you and he..." She nodded at the Doctor. "...are going to be great friends. I know. I've seen you together."

"You've seen me?" he said, bewildered. "With the Doctor? But..."

She nodded gently. "Fifty years from now."

She thought his eyes couldn't get any bigger, but she was wrong. She had to laugh. "Arthur. Come with me. Let's talk out in the room. Before your brother sends anyone else to see if I need anything." She took his hand and led him down the ramp. He followed willingly.

Sarah locked the TARDIS doors behind them, and guided Harpo to the overstuffed chair. She pulled the wooden chair up in front of him and sat, looking into his eyes intently. He seemed to be throwing off the initial shock of seeing the TARDIS and was staring at her with apprehension.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Sarah Jane," she said, smiling reassurance at him just as hard as she could. "The same Sarah Jane I've been for the past two weeks."

"But...what....that...." He looked over his shoulder at the TARDIS.

Sarah nodded. "I know. It's a lot to take in. But trust me. We're here to help. You know we're here. Fifty-years-from-now you, that is. You know why we're here. And you wanted us to come. Oh, you wanted us to come," she said fervently.

"But...why?"

She compressed her lips. "I don't think I can tell you that. Don't think I should, I mean." She took his hand in hers. "I know. I'm asking for a lot of trust here." He looked down at their hands, then up at her face, and nodded. "But Arthur. You are...so utterly remarkable..."

"Me?" he squeaked, laughing.

"You," she affirmed. "You and your brothers. Oh, you have such a future ahead of you." She stopped herself abruptly. "And I wish I could tell you about it. But...."

"That's okay," he said slowly. "I'm not sure I'd want to know. Not sure I'd believe you anyway. Although..." He turned and looked at the TARDIS again.

"Arthur. Please don't say anything about this to your brothers. Or to anyone."

He searched her eyes intently. "Like they'd believe me," he finally said.

She nodded. "But you could make it very difficult for us to do what we came here to do if you tried to get them to believe you. And it's turning out to be difficult enough already," she added under her breath. He raised his eyebrows and she carried on. "And you really, truly want us to succeed. You have to trust me on that."

He studied her for another long moment. "Okay," he finally said. Then he laughed. "I'm good at not talking."

She laughed too. "Yes you are. The best!"

He stood up, and so did she. They walked to the door together.

"If I think of any more questions I want to ask about this later," he said. "Could I?"

She nodded. "Of course. Just please don't tell anyone." He gave her a last long look, then nodded and walked out the door and down the hallway.

Sarah closed the door behind him, then dragged the wooden chair over and jammed it under the doorknob. She gave a deep sigh and suddenly felt too exhausted to even think about the next thing she should do, much less do it. She sat on the bed, then lay back on it. It was a much better bed than the one in May's boarding house, she mused as her tired muscles started to relax. Quite comfortable, actually. No Royal-pedic, but still...

Her eyes closed and she fell, hard and fast, into sleep.

**************

Someone was knocking on Sarah Jane's door. That didn't make any sense, she thought. She rolled over and buried her head deeper in the pillow. Why would they knock? Why wouldn't they ring the doorbell? And who would be knocking at her door anyway? That Corwin article wasn't due for at least another two.....

Her eyes snapped open on total darkness. For a moment, she held her breath and felt her heart rate increase. Then it all flooded back. 1913. The Doctor. The boarding house. Harry.

The knocking came again, this time with a soft but urgent call. "Sarah?"

Groucho's voice. She sat up and smoothed her hair into place. "Be right there," she called back, then stood up and felt her way to the door, barking her shins on the chair she had wedged under the doorknob for security. "Ouch!"

"Sarah, are you alright?" Groucho asked. She moved the chair out of the way, opened the door, slipped out and closed it behind her, grateful for the darkness that had fallen while she slept and which kept Groucho from seeing that the bed and the room were now empty.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just dozed off."

"How's the Doctor?" he asked.

"Still sleeping," she answered.

Groucho frowned. "Is that...normal? I mean...he's been asleep a long time."

Sarah sighed. "I know." She shrugged her shoulders. "He seems fine. Just asleep. When Harry gets here..."

"Right, Harry," Groucho said with a smile. "That's what I came by to tell you. He's on his way."

Sarah felt a foolishly happy grin illuminate her face. "Oh, Julie!" she cried. "That's wonderful news. When do you think he'll get here?"

"Could be any time. The telegram we got was from Fritz. Harry left as soon as he could after the delivery. Made sure the momma and baby were doing well, gave Fritz a quick course on how to take care of his wife and the new addition, and jumped on the next train east."

Sarah breathed out a sigh of relief. "So they are doing well?"

Groucho nodded. "Fritz said yes." He then gave her a big grin. "They're going to name the baby Harry."

Sarah laughed with delight. "Oh, he'll like that," she said. Then she gave Groucho a thoughtful look. "Provided it's a boy, of course."

Groucho chuckled. "It's a boy. They would have gone for Harriet if it had been a girl." He looked at her a bit bashfully. "You hungry yet? I know a girl who works in the kitchen here. Could probably get her to rustle us up a late-night snack."

"You know, Julie," she said, looking at him with a happy smile. "I'm absolutely starving. I could eat a horse."

His eyebrows went up. "Not a unicorn?"

"Oh, I could just murder a unicorn sandwich," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Think they have any?"

He grinned. "I'll check. Want me to bring it back here so you can stay with the Doctor?"

Sarah glanced over her shoulder at the room door, then looked up and down the hallway. At one end, there was an alcove with a chair and a love seat grouped around a low table.. "Let's eat down there," she suggested. "That way I'll be close enough to hear if he wakes up and calls for me, but we won't disturb him."

"Okay," Groucho said, and hurried off.

He was back in five minutes with a tray loaded with crusty brown bread, cold slices of meat, hard-boiled eggs, cold potatoes and corn meal pudding.

"Oh, a feast!" Sarah cried happily. "Thank you, Julie!" He beamed, and the beam just got brighter as he watched Sarah tuck into the plain fare. "Aren't you joining me?" she asked around a mouthful of food, covering her mouth to at least try to preserve her image as a proper lady.

"Well...okay," he said. He slapped a piece of meat between two pieces of bread. "I already ate, but..."

"But boys..." He shot her a look. "Young men," she corrected herself with a grin. "Are always hungry. Right?" He didn't answer because he was busy chewing, but he did nod. "I remember when Harry was about your age," she said. "Never turned down food. No matter how...unusual it was." She had almost said 'alien', which was closer to the truth, but decided 'unusual' would be a better choice.

"Hard to believe you two have been married all that time," Groucho said between bites. "When he still kisses you the way he did on the train." He smiled bashfully at her.

"Oh. Yes. That kiss," Sarah said, then quickly took another bite.

"My folks...well, I know they still love each other. And us." He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. "And God knows I love my brothers. They're great. But...well....we don't always agree on everything."

"That's family for you, isn't it?" Sarah said with a shrug.

He nodded. "That's my family, anyway. Yes. And I always thought, well, that's just how it works. You don't always agree, you don't always get along. But you're family. So you stick together." He bit into a potato and chewed thoughtfully. "But then I met you and the Doctor and Harry," he went on, looking at her intently. "I've never seen a family like yours before."

Sarah looked up into his eyes, then down at her food. She swallowed hard. "What, just because we're British?" she said, trying to turn it into a joke.

Groucho didn't match her light tone. "No," he said seriously. "Because I've never seen a family where everyone cares about each other so much."

Sarah felt her face growing warm. She put down her bread, and gave him a level gaze.

"The way you and Harry just dropped everything, his medical practice, your place in society, everything, even came to the other side of the world, all to help John get started in vaudeville," he continued. "The way you worked together in the act. Never any quarreling or bickering. You just always seemed to be having the best fun together." Sarah smiled at that. It _had _been fun. "The way you've both cared for John since he was hurt. Which was all my fault." Sarah compressed her lips and gave him a stern look. "Oh, I know. You've told me not to say that."

"Not even to think it," Sarah corrected him.

He shook his head. "I don't know how to do that. When it was because of me. That your family...your amazing family...has been put through all of this. And after you were so kind to me. Loaned me books. Always seemed to have the one I was wanting, too." Sarah smiled to herself a bit at that, thinking of the vast library in the TARDIS, and the fun they had had finding the books Groucho had expressed interest in.

"Seeing you on the train," he went on. "The way you cared for the Doctor. Never left his side. Hardly ever took your eyes off him. Except when Harry left. And then...the look in your eyes as you watched him go..." He laughed softly. "I just hope some day. If I'm really lucky. Like Harry. That I can find a wife like you and we can have a son like John and make ourselves a family like yours."

Sarah looked at him and saw his heart reflected in his eyes. She hugged herself tightly, and sighed. "Julie," she said. She paused a moment, wondering if she should say what she wanted to say. Another look in his eyes convinced her. "I have to tell you something." She paused again, and he looked at her expectantly. "John's not my son," she said gently.

"Oh," Groucho said, startled. "So...he's Harry's? And you adopted him?"

She shook her head. "He's no relation to either of us. Just...a traveller we met. And..well..we all just sort of adopted each other."

Groucho stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly open in amazement. "But...but...you and Harry..."

"Friends. Dear friends," Sarah said softly. "But...friends."

He blinked at her in silence for a long moment.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" she said.

"No. No," he responded.

"And you...don't think less of us, do you?" Sarah asked tentatively.

He stared at her for another, even longer, moment, then laughed softly. "No. No. I....could never do that," he said, shaking his head. He looked deeply into her eyes. "No relation?"

"None at all," she confirmed.

"You about done here?" A nasal voice interrupted the silence that followed Sarah's statement. She looked up in surprise. She'd been so involved in her conversation with Groucho that she hadn't noticed the young woman's approach. "I've got to get that tray back to the kitchen and washed up before I can go home."

"Sorry, Bets," Groucho said, jumping up and grabbing the tray. "I'll bring it back. You done, Sarah?"

She nodded. "Thanks for getting it for me."

He smiled and she tried to read his face, to see if anything had changed there in his feelings toward her. "You're welcome," he said. He headed down the hallway with Betty, calling "Good night!" over his shoulder.

Sarah sighed deeply. After a moment, she stood, and walked up the hallway to their room. She opened the door.

The room should have been dark. It had been when she left. But now, a bright light glowed in the corner. She blinked, and realized the glow was coming from the TARDIS. Her doors were standing open. And the reason she hadn't recognized their outline immediately is that there was another outline superimposed on them. The outline of a tall, thin man. A tall thin man in a long coat, standing, hands in pockets, between her and the TARDIS.

She groped along the wall inside the door, searching for a light switch. She found a pushbutton instead. She pushed it, and a dim electric light illuminated the room. Illuminated the man. The Doctor. Standing in front of the TARDIS, grinning that megawatt grin of his, brown eyes dancing, hair spikey as a porcupine.

"You're up," she said, rather breathlessly, her eyes wide.

"Yes I am!" he agreed happily.

"And you're outside the TARDIS."

"Yes I am!" he agreed again.

"And...you're fine," she said softly, incredulously.

"Yes I am!" He practically crowed it this time.

She took off at a run and threw herself at him. He caught her, wrapped his arms around her, and whirled her in a full circle. Then centrifugal force took over and whirled her away from him, but he reached out with one long arm, caught her by the hand, and twirled her back to him where they spun in a circle again. Next thing she knew, she was doing an impromptu jitterbug with the Doctor, being whirled and spun until she was dizzy. Laughing joyously, drinking in the sight of him, spinning and dancing and....

The door opened just as the Doctor spun her in that direction. She ended up in Harry's arms.

"What's this?" he said, startled.

"Harry!" she cried, giving him a huge hug, then tugging on one of his arms to set him spinning.

He joined in the spirit of the celebration immediately. "Thought you didn't want to dance with me, old girl," he said, as he twirled her under his arm and then sent her spinning off in the Doctor's direction.

"I do tonight!" she cried happily.


	14. Chapter 14

The Doctor caught Sarah Jane and gave her another whirl, then headed her back in Harry's direction. This time, Sarah spun herself toward the overstuffed chair and collapsed into it, breathless and laughing. Harry flopped onto the bed, lay back on it for a moment, then propped himself up on one elbow and looked at them both with a grin. The Doctor picked up the wooden chair, moved it halfway between them, and straddled it backwards, resting his folded arms on the chair back.

"How's your time sense?" Harry asked him.

"Remarkably resilient," the Doctor answered with a relieved grin. "Couple of hours kip in the TARDIS and I'm back in business."

"Then," Sarah puffed, still catching her breath. "Then that means the time slip is fixed?"

The Doctor looked around the room, took a deep sniff of the air and grinned. "Yup!"

Sarah and Harry looked at him and at each other, and he looked at them, and they all said in chorus, "What did you do?"

"Me?" The Doctor was the first to respond, placing his hand on his chest, long fingers splayed. "You know what I was up to. Which wasn't much. By the way, thanks for getting me into the TARDIS," he added, looking at Harry.

"Not me," Harry said, repeating the hand-on-the-chest gesture. "I just got here."

The Doctor frowned. "From where?"

"Wakeeney, Kansas," Harry said. He pulled a pained face and gave a low whistle. "Remind me never to have a medical emergency in Wakeeney, Kansas in 1913 again."

"Wakeeney?" the Doctor repeated, wrinkling his nose as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. "Harry? You got off the train? Oi! Rule Number One!"

"I gave him permission," Sarah said with a grin, which grew broader when the Doctor turned shocked eyes on her. "He had some doctorin' to do," she added in a passable Western-movie accent.

The Doctor looked from Sarah to Harry and back again, then blew out a short huff of breath. "Well, you're here now. So, Sarah--you got me in the TARDIS? By yourself?

She took a deep breath and screwed up her eyes before giving him a sidelong glance. "I almost did." His eyebrows contracted in a worried frown, and she hurried to explain how Harpo had surprised her in the middle of moving him, and that he had helped her get him into his ship.

The Doctor's frown relaxed into a relieved smile, and Sarah felt as if she'd dodged a bullet. "That's fine. I'll talk to him later. Blimey, it's been hard acting as if I don't know him these past two weeks."

"So, who fixed the time slip?" asked Harry. "If it wasn't you," he said, looking at the Doctor, "and it wasn't me, then..."

They both looked very pointedly at Sarah.

"Me?" she said, doing the hand-on-the-chest gesture. "I didn't do anything." She thought back quickly over the past few hours. "I fell asleep!"

The Doctor smiled at her. "I saw that." She raised her eyebrows at him, and he continued. "I woke up an hour ago. Found myself alone in the TARDIS and wondered where you two were. Opened the doors and saw you out like a light on the bed." His eyes grew serious. "Couldn't be sure you were just asleep. And I wanted to go to you to check, but...the time slip was still active then. Didn't dare try it. Might have ended up in Poughkeepsie without you to guide me."

"Poughkeepsie?" Harry echoed, laughing.

"Wakeeney, then," the Doctor said with a grin. "Someplace I didn't want or intend to go at any rate. So, I went back in the TARDIS and used her scanners to check on you and make sure you were okay, and just sleeping."

"So, the time slip hadn't been fixed then?" Harry said. "And you said that was an hour ago?"

"Give or take," the Doctor answered.

Harry turned to Sarah. "What did you do in the past hour?"

Sarah thought back. "Erm. Well. Woke up when Groucho knocked on the door. He'd come to tell me you were on your way, Harry," she said, looking at him. "And then I was starving so he got some food from the kitchen for me, and we had a nice snack and a chat."

The Doctor and Harry exchanged knowing glances.

"What?" Sarah asked. "How could I have fixed the time slip by eating and chatting?"

"I told you, Sarah," the Doctor said. "Everything I saw on the scanners when I was researching this slip, before it happened and after, showed that Groucho was at the heart of it." He shook his head. "Never heard of a slip like it. But then, I haven't heard of everything." He grinned. "That's what keeps me travelling. Anyway--somehow, Groucho and time were linked here and now."

"Right, so that's why we were trying to fix the time slip--to put Groucho right," Sarah agreed.

The Doctor nodded. "And when that didn't quite work out according to plan, we had to fix Groucho to put the time slip right." He gave her an intent look. "What did you talk about?"

She frowned slightly, then gave him a crooked smile. "I told him..." She stopped, sighed, and started over. "He was going on and on about what a wonderful family we were. Made me feel like such a fraud."

"Why?" Harry asked. "We _are _a wonderful family." He gave her a warm smile.

"Harry," she admonished him, clicking her tongue.

"So what did you tell him?" the Doctor prompted her gently.

"The truth. That we're not a family. You're not our son, Harry and I aren't married. That we all just sort of adopted each other."

The Doctor smiled at her--a warm smile that kept growing bigger and warmer the longer she looked at him.

"You think that did it?" she finally asked in a skeptical tone. He nodded. "But how?"

"Sarah," he said. "The concept of a family of choice--people who just.." He paused, thought a moment. "...take care of each other. And act like family. Without being related. That's a very late twentieth-century idea on Earth. Brought on by lots of social upheaval in your mid-twentieth century that rather pulled the rug out from under the biological family. Some of them, anyway." He raised his eyebrows at her. "You know. You lived through it." She nodded, and he went on. "So it's a pretty revolutionary concept in the early twentieth-century. Especially for a young man who's a part of such a tight-knit biological family. The thought that people could just...care enough about each other to choose to be a family, without being related by the accident of birth...." He chuckled. "I think you gave him back that bit of faith in humanity that the robbery took from him."

"That's my Sarah Jane," said Harry with a grin.

"Oyah! _Our _Sarah Jane," the Doctor corrected him with an even bigger grin.

"You're both mad," she said, scowling at them.

The Doctor stood up, held his hands out to the side, palms up, and gave her an eyebrows-up look before straddling the chair again. "Can't argue with the evidence, can you?"

She looked at him. "It couldn't have spontaneously mended itself?"

He shook his head and sighed theatrically. "I'm afraid you're going to have to take credit, Sarah."

She thought it over for a moment. "If that is what fixed it--fixed him," she said. "Then we all take credit." She widened her eyes at them. "The whole _family _takes credit," she said.

"I can live with that," Harry said. He looked at the Doctor. "You, Doctor?"

The Doctor looked at Harry, then at Sarah. She saw the sudden pain in his eyes, and remembered in a heart-stopping flash what had happened to his family, to his planet, and how alone he was in the universe.

Except for them. And his other human friends. His family of choice.

He finally nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. "I can live with that."

"So. Mission accomplished," Harry said. "Do we hop on board and head for home?" He nodded toward the TARDIS.

"We do not," Sarah said emphatically.

"We don't?"

She shook her head. "What would that do to Groucho? To have us just disappear? No explanation, nothing? What would that do to his faith in humanity?"

"Good point," said the Doctor, smiling. "So, what do we do?"

"You...we make a triumphant comeback!" Sarah said with a big grin.

The next morning, when they all showed up for breakfast in the boarding house dining room, the Doctor smiling and obviously glowing with radiant good health, the company's collective eyes bugged out. Then the men leaped up to shake his hand and slap him on the back. The women hugged Sarah and beamed at her, overjoyed for her that her boy was well again. Sarah did not have any trouble acting the part of the relieved mum.

Harry came in for a good few handshakes and back slaps, too, as well as congratulations and thank-you's for what he had done for Fritz, Mrs. Fritz, and little Harry. His stock as a physician went through the roof, not only because of the successful C-section delivery, but because he had obviously managed to heal his son by the unheard of method of keeping him unconscious for a ten hour train ride. Harry just explained that the long period of sedation had given the swelling in the Doctor's brain a chance to resolve itself. "Standard treatment for a brain injury in England," he said with authority--and a secret wink for Sarah.

The Doctor took Harpo aside for a private chat the first time the opportunity presented itself. Later that night, he came to their room, and he and the Doctor disappeared into the TARDIS together. Sarah and Harry didn't intrude, and so never knew exactly what was said, but when they emerged from the timeship, Harpo's wide green eyes were clear, bright and happy, with no sign of the confusion and apprehension that had been in them after his first exposure to the trans-dimensional ship. He gave Sarah a big hug, and shook Harry's hand, then waved cheerfully at the Doctor as he left the room.

The Kansas City audience must have been puzzled by the fact that, the first time the Doctor and his assistants appeared back on stage to do their act, the rest of the company packed the back of the theatre and the wings and brought down the house with their cheers and applause. The Doctor took Harry and Sarah by the hand and led them forward to share the ovation, all of them taking a number of bows. Then Harry and Sarah stepped back and let him bask in the audience's adulation all by himself. He was not averse to a little basking, Sarah thought with a grin as she watched him bowing gracefully. And he well deserved it. She found herself applauding him, too.

On the last day of their week's engagement in Kansas City, a telegram was delivered to the theatre, addressed to the Doctor. Sam handed it to him with wide eyes, then stood back as he read it. The Doctor frowned, and showed the telegram to Sarah and Harry, who read it and then exchanged concerned looks.

"That's from Houdini," Sam said, nearly hyperventilating. "Houdini himself." The Doctor nodded, raising his eyebrows and trying to swallow a grin as Sam proceeded to tell him the contents of his telegram. "He says he needs you. Back in England."

"Yeah," the Doctor said, sounding unhappy. "His English agent seems to have double-booked him by mistake. He needs us to fill in for him at the second engagement." He looked at Sarah and Harry gloomily. "We'll have to go home and help him out. And just when it was looking like we might have a shot at breaking into the big time here."

"But son," Harry said. "Look on the bright side. You'll get to see that cute little fiancee of yours." He grinned. "What was her name again?"

The Doctor grinned back. "Dad. You're such a kidder. How could you forget the name of your future daughter-in-law?

Word spread quickly throughout the company that the Doctor, Harry and Sarah Jane would be heading for home the following day instead of travelling with them to Chicago and their next engagement.

"Darn it all," Groucho said, when he stood with them on the platform at the train station, saying goodbye. "I was hoping to introduce you to my folks in Chicago."

"Oh," Sarah sighed. "I would so love to meet Minnie and Frenchie." She cast longing glances at the Doctor and Harry, who just smiled at her and shook their heads.

"Houdini needs us. Remember?" the Doctor said. "We can't let him down. Especially when he was nice enough to send that telegram."

Sarah sighed, then turned to Groucho. "Maybe next time," she said.

"Right," he said with a grin. "When you come back as headliners."

Sarah gave him a hug, and this time he didn't blush, just hugged her back. Then he held a hand out to the Doctor.

"Thanks again for saving my life," he said.

The Doctor arched an eyebrow at him. "How many times have we told you not to say that?"

Groucho looked thoughtful. "Three hundred and twelve, I think it is now."

The Doctor grinned. "Well, rather than make it three hundred and thirteen, I'll just say that, if I did save your life..." He glanced at Harry and Sarah Jane and smiled. "If _we _saved your life, you're more than welcome. It's a life worth saving."

"Never forget that," Sarah added earnestly.

They boarded their train, waving goodbye to all the friends they'd made over the past three weeks who had come to see them off. Once the train pulled out of Kansas City and was in open country, the Doctor caught their eyes and motioned toward the back of the car with his eyebrows. They all got up and headed toward the freight car.

"C'mon, Sarah, you can do it," Harry held out a hand to her from the far side of the open platform that linked the train cars.

"It looks a lot easier in the movies," she said, frowning down at the narrow walkway which was bouncing and wobbling from side to side with the motion of the train.

The Doctor stood behind her, steadying her as she contemplated the tracks flying by beneath them. "Piece of cake, Sarah. Just two steps and you're there."

"Two steps for you, maybe. I'd like to see you do it in a narrow ankle-length dress!"

"A world where women wear trousers waits on the other side," he whispered into her ear. She looked up and over her shoulder at him, then made the leap of faith across to Harry's waiting arms.

"There she is!" the Doctor beamed when they finally reached the freight car. The TARDIS had been packed in behind a number of trunks and large boxes, but they managed to clear a narrow pathway to her. The Doctor opened the doors, then stood back and bowed them in.

"Wonder what they'll think when the train gets to New York and they find out the TARDIS has disappeared," Harry mused.

"Since we won't be there to call for her, they may not even notice," said the Doctor as he circled the console, flipping switches and setting dials. The TARDIS started to wheeze and judder, and the central column moved up and down.

"Home again, eh, Sarah?" Harry said, hanging on to the railing for dear life.

"Ah. Well. Just one more little trip first," said the Doctor, racing around to the far side of the console to push a lever up, then slam it back down again. "Hope you don't mind."

Sarah and Harry just raised their eyebrows at each other.


	15. Chapter 15

The TARDIS doors opened on a now-familiar desertscape and Harry and the Doctor stepped out into the arid heat.

"Sixty-three?" Harry asked the Doctor.

He nodded.

"Which one?" Sarah asked, exiting the TARDIS behind them. She had made a quick change out of her 1913 dress and into the capris and fringed top that Susan Marx had given her.

The Doctor stuck his nose in the air and sniffed several times rapidly, then snorted the breath out of his nostrils and repeated the sniffs. He smiled. He stepped over to a squat tree that was growing near the TARDIS, broke a thick, rubbery leaf off it and licked it. His smile grew broader. "The right one," he finally answered.

"Had to make sure we fixed it?" Sarah asked, running her fingers through her thick auburn hair, which now hung loosely and framed her face..

The Doctor nodded, then walked around the corner of the TARDIS and headed toward El Rancho Harpo, closely followed by Sarah Jane and Harry.

"Doctor," Harry said, stopping. The Doctor stopped too and looked around quizzically. "Is he going to remember us?"

"Arthur?" the Doctor asked. Harry nodded. "From 1913?"

"No. From sixty-three. The other sixty-three."

The Doctor took a deep thoughtful breath and narrowed his eyes. "Normally? I'd say no. But Arthur has surprised me too many times to be sure."

Sarah was puzzling out the timey-wimey-ness of the question. "But...since we went back and changed things, that version of sixty-three--the one we landed in before--never happened. It's not like when both of them had happened and he remembered both timelines. Strands," she corrected herself. "So how could he remember what didn't happen?"

"As a what-if," the Doctor answered, as if that explained everything.

Sarah looked at Harry, who widened his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Ooo-kaaaay," she said, drawing the word out. "Could you maybe elaborate on that a bit?"

The Doctor grinned at her. "A what-if. You know."

"If I did, I wouldn't ask," she said, tipping her head forward and looking at him out of the tops of her eyes.

"I know humans do this. You wonder sometimes. What if? What if...you had become a doctor instead of a journalist? Or vice versa," he said, including them both in the explanation. "What if...you had said yes when that boy asked you out instead of staying in and studying? Or what if you had decided to go into civilian practice instead of joining the Navy?" he added, looking from Sarah to Harry..

"Well, sure," Sarah agreed, and Harry nodded.

"Why do you wonder about those particular what-ifs?" Sarah looked at him blankly, so he continued. "Aren't there an infinite number of possible scenarios for your life?"

"I suppose," she said.

"So, out of that infinite number, why do you choose to wonder about only a certain few?"

She took a deep breath and looked at him intently. "Well. Curiosity mostly, I suppose. Just wondering how things would be different." She thought some more, then continued. "Fear sometimes. Like, what if I had been on that plane that went down. Or wishful thinking. What if I won the lottery. That sort of thing."

"Why be afraid of that particular plane crash and not another? Why wonder what if you won the lottery but not what if you came into an inheritance for the same amount of money?"

"Are you going to tell us or will we always have to wonder, 'what if the Doctor told us?'" Harry asked, grinning.

The Doctor laughed, then explained. "Sometimes. Not always, but sometimes. The what-ifs are failed time strands. Slips that were fixed. Or just...ghost strands that petered out without going anywhere."

Sarah and Harry both stood and blinked at him, digesting this idea. "So," Sarah said slowly, after a moment. "There's a failed timestrand out there--or a fixed slip--in which I didn't go to that research complex pretending to be Aunt Lavinia and looking for a story?"

The Doctor gave her a warm smile. "I'd have fixed that one myself if I knew about it," he said. "But yes. If that's a strong 'what-if' for you, then there probably is."

Harry's brows furrowed in concentration. "So, Arthur may have wondered what if Julie had died in 1931?"

"Probably not that specific. More like, 'What if one of us had died just as we were starting to get into movies. What would I have done? How would my life be different?'"

"And that would really be a memory of the other timestrand?"

"All that's left of it. Yes," the Doctor answered.

Just then, the canine welcoming committee came running down the path toward them, Gabby yapping non-stop, their master hurrying along behind them.

"Doctor! Harry! Sarah Jane!" Harpo called to them with delight.

"Well, so much for that theory," the Doctor said with a grin. "Arthur!" He turned and ran to meet his old friend.

Any remaining doubts about Harpo's memory of the other time strand disappeared as he hugged them all in turn. "You did it! You did it!" he said over and over, tears of joy in his eyes. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" He turned and walked toward the house, beckoning them to follow. "Come in! I want to hear all about it!"

"Susan, look who's here!" Harpo called happily as they entered the house.

"Doctor!" Susan Marx smiled up at the Doctor and gave him a hug. "Another new face?"

The Doctor gave Sarah and Harry a quick glance, then looked back at Susan. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "Like it?"

She reached out and squeezed his cheeks, turning his face from side to side. "It's a good face. Yes. I do like it. The freckles are a nice touch. Keep this one!" She turned to look at Sarah Jane and Harry. "And you've brought us some visitors."

"Ah. Yes. These are my friends, Sarah Jane Smith and Harry Sullivan," he said.

Sarah and Harry smiled and made the appropriate pleased-to-meet-you noises just as if they'd never met Susan before.

"Your friends are always welcome here," she said to the Doctor. Then she looked at Sarah quizzically. "How odd, though. I have that exact same outfit."

Sarah ducked her head to hide a grin. "I could go change," she offered.

"Oh no. No," Susan said, smiling. "That's fine. In fact...it looks better on you!" She looked toward the door to the living room, then turned back to them. "I don't know where that husband of mine has gotten to, but please, come, sit. What can I get you to drink?"

Harpo rejoined them a few moments later as they all sat around the big kitchen table. "Sorry, just had to make a phone call," he said as he poured himself an iced tea and took a seat next to the Doctor.

They spent the next hour talking and laughing and catching up. Susan was a bit baffled, but accepting when they explained about their previous visit and their mission to 1913. Harpo's memories of events during the time slip were much clearer than they had been before, which, the Doctor explained, wasn't surprising since it had only lasted a few days in the present timestrand. Harpo confirmed that he remembered their act, and the robbery attempt, and the fact that the Doctor had saved Groucho's life.

The Doctor sighed. "You know, I didn't. Really."

"But you did," Harpo said.

"Well, yes. But...not the way he thought. Or the way you thought at the time."

Harpo grinned his cherubic grin. "But you did. You all did. Thank you!"

The only thing that seemed to be gone from his memory entirely was the TARDIS, seeing her interior, and the conversation he had with the Doctor after the time slip was mended. Sarah saw a satisfied smile on the Doctor's face as their questions brought this information to light.

The sound of the front door opening and closing interrupted their conversation. Harpo got up with a mischievous grin. "Be right back," he said as he disappeared out the kitchen door.

A moment later, they heard the murmur of voices which became clearer as the speakers approached the kitchen.

"So, I'm finally going to meet your imaginary friend," they heard someone say. Sarah looked at Harry with enormous eyes and a huge grin as she recognized the voice. How could you not recognize that voice? she thought. The one..the only....

Groucho stepped into the kitchen. The thick dark hair Sarah remembered--from mere hours before, as it seemed to her--was thin and gray. The fresh young man's face was now lined. The greasepaint mustache that he had worn on stage in 1913 was now replaced with a real one. His eyes looked through bifocals now and not the plain wire-rimmed glasses of the earlier time. Those eyes were more cynical, more world-weary. But...they were there. Alive. Alive and lively, relentlessly observing the foibles of mankind, full of the wit and honesty that had always made him the one to point out that the emperor had no clothes. And to make people laugh as he did it.

Those brown eyes fixed on Sarah Jane as he entered the kitchen. He stopped in mid-sentence and mid-stride. His mouth fell open and his gaze travelled to Harry, then to the Doctor.

"Easy, Julie," the Doctor said, as Groucho's knees threatened to buckle under him. Harpo pulled a chair out and his brother sank into it, still staring at the three travellers as if they were apparitions.

"How...what....but...." he stammered. They just smiled at him. "You haven't changed. My God. Fifty years. And you look just like you did. When I saw you off on the train."

"Oh, Julie!" Sarah couldn't stand it another moment. She went to his side, crouched down next to him, and reached for his hand.

He flinched back, still staring at her with a stunned expression.

She drew her hand back, and just kept looking into his eyes, smiling gently. "It's me, Julie. Really. It's us." She glanced over her shoulder at Harry and the Doctor.

Groucho also looked at Harry and the Doctor, then back at Sarah. "Sarah Jane," he finally whispered. He reached out a hand and gingerly touched her cheek. Apparently reassured by that touch, he cupped her cheek in his hand. "I always wondered about you. Never heard anything. Figured you'd decided...you'd decided," he repeated, looking up at Harry. "To go back into medicine. Tried to look you up. When we went to England to play the Palace. But no one had heard of you. So I thought..." He looked at them all again. "I just hoped..." After a moment, he laughed and sat up straighter. "I sure never thought that you were Harpo's imaginary friend," he said to the Doctor.

The Doctor grinned. "Is that what he calls me?"

"That's what I've called you. For nearly fifty years now." Groucho looked at his brother. "Why didn't you tell me your Doctor was the Doctor who saved my life in thirteen?"

"I didn't know," Harpo said. "He didn't look like this the first time I met him."

Those iconic eyebrows drew together. "He didn't look like this?" Groucho repeated emphatically.

"No," the Doctor said. "Well. The first time he met me, I looked like this. That was in 1913. But the first time I met him, I looked different."

Groucho just blinked at him.

"See? I tried to tell you," Harpo said with a grin.

"You also tried to tell me that if I clapped, Tinkerbelle would live," Groucho said. Then his face softened. "Guess I should have listened to you on this one."

********************

Once again, they talked into the wee hours of the night in the comfortable living room of El Rancho Harpo, but unlike the last time, Groucho--or Julie, as Sarah couldn't help but think of him now--was there. He had seen the TARDIS, and had heard the story of their trip to 1913, and a lot of the young man Sarah remembered had returned to his eyes. Cynicism and world-weariness had trouble competing with the knowledge that the universe was so much bigger and more full of marvels than he had ever dreamed. The only thing they all had kept from him, by mutual unspoken consent, was the painful truth of what had become of him in the time-slip-generated timestrand. None of them wanted him to know how his life had ended in the unbearable alternative world that had sent them back through time.

Groucho's agile mind, of course, saw the gap in their story. "So, why did you go back to that particular place and time when you can go anywhere and...I guess you'd say anywhen?... you want to?"

The Doctor looked at Sarah and Harry with a warm and knowing smile. "Just a pleasure trip. For my friends. They helped me out...a lot...when I was in a bad way, and I wanted to thank them. And they're both...Sarah especially...big fans of yours. So I thought I'd take them back to see you in vaudeville."

Groucho's eyebrows furrowed. "You could have just bought a ticket to do that. Why the whole act business?

"We wanted to do more than just see your show," Sarah answered. "We wanted to meet you. Get to know you."

Groucho shook his head. "Mighty complicated way to go about it." He looked at them all intently, his brother last of all and with the most penetrating gaze. "You sure it wasn't about that robbery?"

Harpo raised his eyebrows and put on his best innocent face--which was a very good innocent face. An excellent innocent face. "What robbery?" His brother just stared him down. "Oh. That robbery." Harpo grinned.

"Because sometimes I wonder," Groucho continued, his voice growing soft. "What if you hadn't been there? What if that man had robbed me? Shot me?" His eyes lost focus. "What would my life have been like? Would it have ended right there?"

"Didn't happen, did it," the Doctor said, his voice warm and reassuring.

Groucho's eyes snapped back to the present. "Because of you."

"How many times..." the Doctor started to say, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

"Three hundred and twelve and counting." Groucho interrupted him with a grin.

********************

Sarah didn't want her time with her two favorite Marx brothers to end. The Doctor must have seen it in her eyes, as he accepted Susan's invitation for them to spend the night again with much less protest than he had the first time. Groucho stayed over as well, as it was too late for him to drive back to the city by the time they all--except the Doctor, of course--had conceded that they couldn't keep their eyes open a moment longer.

The next morning, after a bountiful breakfast in the best of company, they all walked down the path to the TARDIS. When they reached the timeship, the goodbyes couldn't be avoided any longer. Sarah felt her eyes growing misty as she watched Harry shake hands with Groucho and Harpo and give Susan a hug and a chaste peck on the cheek. The Doctor gave Harpo and Susan his patented bear hug, then started to extend his hand to Groucho for a handshake. Sarah saw him look deeply into Groucho's eyes at the last moment, and then turn the handshake into a hug.

Finally, it was Sarah's turn. She gave Susan a quick hug and thanked her again for her hospitality, then turned to Harpo. Their eyes met, his shining with gratitude. She wanted to throw her arms around him and squeeze him as hard as she could squeeze, but reminded herself that he was seventy-five and satisfied herself with a gentler hug. "I will never forget you," she said softly. "No one will." She turned to Groucho. "You either," she said with a smile as she wrapped her arms around him, closed her eyes, and put the biggest bookmark she knew how to put in her memory for this moment, the feel of him in her arms and of his arms around her, the desert sun beating down on them. She loosened her hold on him enough to look up at his face. "The one, the only," she said with a grin.

"That's me!" Groucho said with a wiggle of his eyebrows, miming taking a cigar out of his mouth. Sarah thought she might just burst with joy.

"Sarah," the Doctor said softly, nodding toward the TARDIS with a big grin.

She reluctantly climbed aboard his ship with a last wave for Groucho, Harpo and Susan. As she walked up the ramp, she heard the Doctor close the TARDIS doors behind her and then he was by her side, draping an arm over her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

At the top of the ramp, he headed for the console and put his ship in gear, while Sarah sat on the bench next to Harry. After the usual wheezing, bucking and lurching, the TARDIS calmed down and the Doctor charged down the ramp.

"Spot on!" he cried proudly a second after he threw the doors open.

Sarah's living room waited outside the TARDIS. He had landed in the exact place from which they'd taken off.

Sarah and Harry exited the ship and Harry glanced up at the clock on the wall. "And only an hour later. Not bad."

Sarah headed directly toward the shelf where her DVDs were stored and pulled out her_ Best of the Marx Brothers_ box set.

'Oh ye of little faith," Harry laughed. "Have to make sure we saved _Horse Feathers_?"

She shot him a glance, then looked back at the DVD set. She read the contents. Then she read them again.

"What is it, Sarah?" the Doctor asked.

She looked up at him, and then at Harry, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head.

"Come on, old girl," Harry said with a worried frown. "Isn't it there? It's got to be. We saved Groucho."

She looked down at the DVD set again. "Oh, it's there," she said softly.

"Then what?"

"Look." She held the set up to him.

He read with a puzzled frown, which gradually turned into the same look of awe that Sarah's face wore.

"Alright, you two." The Doctor was staring at them, bemused. "You going to explain to the Time Lord what's so shocking? Or do I have to guess? Is there another movie missing?"

Sarah shook her head slowly. "They're all there," she said. She looked up at him. "And then some." Her look of shocked amazement gradually dissolved into one of delight. "There's a new one!"

"New as of 1937," Harry said, still reading the box. "_Cracked Ice._"

"New to us! That was the name of a proposed Marx brothers movie that was never made. At least...in our old timestrand it wasn't," she explained. She looked at Harry, then at the Doctor. "Can you stay to watch it?"

Harry looked at her with indecision for just a second, then laughed. "Good Lord. Yes! Just let me call Dan and Lucy and see if they'll let Thor out for me."

"Doctor?" Sarah asked.

He grinned. "How could I refuse?"

Harry placed his call while Sarah popped a big bowl of popcorn, and before long they all were settled on the couch, the DVD in the player, Sarah in charge of the remote as she sat between the Doctor and Harry.

"Did you get through to Dan?" she asked Harry before hitting the play button.

"No, but I got their machine. Should be fine. I asked them to keep an eye on the old boy this morning when we went to Cardiff. So, just told them I'd be another few hours and would appreciate it if they'd let him out again for me. Left them your number in case there was a problem. Can't seem to find my mobile."

"Probably left it in the TARDIS."

Harry looked at the Doctor. "Don't take off until I check."

The Doctor nodded, and then they all settled back on the couch and helped themselves to big handfuls of popcorn as Sarah hit play.

Ninety minutes later, the bowl was empty, and they were all sat staring at the television screen with happy grins as the credits rolled.

"That's my new favorite Marx brothers movie," Sarah declared.

"What, you think it's better than all the old ones?" Harry asked.

She grinned. "Maybe not. But it's ours." She took Harry's and the Doctor's hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. "If we needed a reward--beyond knowing that Groucho didn't die--this was the perfect one."

Just then, Sarah's phone rang. She sighed, regretting the intrusion, but got up and walked over to the desk to answer it.

"It's for you," she said, returning to her spot on the couch between her friends and handing Harry the receiver. "Dan."

"Dan! Hello," she heard Harry say as she leaned into the Doctor and rested her head on his shoulder, trying to get her mood back to where it was before the phone rang. "How's Thor? Not being too much trouble, I hope. What..." She looked over at Harry in consternation as his tone changed. "You're joking. No, no, I can tell you're not. Is Thor..." Harry looked relieved. "Oh, Dan. Thank you so much. I can't even begin..." He broke off again, listening. "Yes. I will. No, I'm fine. I'll be there as soon as I can. Give the old boy a pat for me. Thanks again."

He got up from the couch, put the phone back in its cradle, sat in Sarah's desk chair and fired up her PC.

"Harry?" She got up and walked over to him, looking over his shoulder at the monitor, and the Doctor followed. "What's up?"

He didn't answer immediately, just hit the "News" link on the Google home page, then typed his own name in the search box.

Sarah frowned at the headlines that popped up. "Deputy Director of MI5 Missing." "Search for Commodore Sullivan Continues." "No New Leads in MI5 Disappearance." She looked at Harry with wide eyes.

"Look at the dates," he said, pointing at the screen.

Sarah did, then looked at the Doctor.

"What?" he asked with trepidation.

Harry swivelled around to face him. "We've been gone a bit more than an hour."

"Have we?" the Doctor asked, tentatively.

Harry nodded. "An hour...and three weeks."

The Doctor looked as if he would very much like to have the power to dematerialize himself at will. "Oops," he finally said, in a very small voice.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry sighed deeply and compressed his lips. The Doctor clasped his hands behind his back, looked down at his feet, then back up at Harry.

"Sorry," he said.

Harry took in his contrite pose and expression, and after a very brief pause, laughed reluctantly. "Don't be. It was worth it," Harry said, his smile growing broader and less troubled by the second. "No apology needed." He stood up. "I'd better let everyone know I haven't been abducted by aliens, though." He paused, then looked at the Doctor and grinned. "It was just one alien, and I went willingly."

Sarah wordlessly handed him the phone. He looked at it, then shook his head. "I'd rather not call from here. Better to keep you out of it if I can," he said.

"How much trouble are you going to be in?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

He shook his head. "No trouble. Just a lot of explaining. Or rather...creative non-explaining." He grinned. "He's listed in my records as a known associate, after all," he said, nodding at the Doctor. "So I can always say I was off on a top-secret mission to save the planet with UNIT's scientific advisor."

"You were," the Doctor said simply. "To save one person is to save the world."

"Especially the one person we saved," Sarah added with a grin.

Harry nodded. "Or," he went on after a moment with a glint of mischief in his eye. "I could always tell them I got married and I've been on my honeymoon for the past three weeks and I was so besotted with my new bride that I forgot to report in." He gave Sarah an eyebrow wiggle worthy of Groucho.

"Wouldn't you have to produce a wife for that one to fly?" she asked drily.

"It would help, yes," he agreed, looking at her expectantly.

"I think it would take more than a bio-damper to convince them today," Sarah said.

"You're right. There would have to be official records, a certificate..."

"Wouldn't that be a lot of trouble to falsify?"

Harry looked at her and this time the mischief was gone, replaced by a look of wistful hope. "Yes. It would. The real thing would work much better."

When she didn't respond, he sighed, then rummaged in his pockets and frowned. "My car keys must be wherever my mobile is. And everything else that was no use to me in 1913." His eyes lighted up and he snapped his fingers. "And I remember just where I left it all. Be right back." He disappeared into the TARDIS.

The Doctor sat in the desk chair, put his glasses on and peered at the computer screen. He hit a few keys, and Sarah stepped behind him to see what he was doing.

He had erased Harry's name from the search box on Google news, and typed hers in. He hit enter. Three headlines came up, all about Harry's disappearance. He clicked on one, and scrolled down the length of the article, finally finding the reference to Sarah in the next to last paragraph. "Sarah Jane Smith, investigative journalist and known associate of Commodore Sullivan, is being sought for possible information about the Commodore's whereabouts."

"I'm a known associate," Sarah said with a smile.

"Yeah, me too," the Doctor said, looking up at her with a subdued grin. "Sarah?" She just raised her eyebrows in response. "I...erm...well..."

She loved it when he got tongue tied. It happened so rarely and was such a contrast to his usual mile-a-minute gob. "What is it, Doctor?"

He sighed. "Why isn't it news that you went missing for three weeks?" His brown eyes were troubled.

She shrugged. "I don't have a high profile job like Harry. Just a free-lance journalist. No boss. No time clock to punch. Not expected anywhere at any particular time, so no red flags go up when I'm not seen for awhile."

"No one missed you?"

She shook her head, then nodded toward the computer screen. "Apparently not," she said with a wry smile.

He wasn't smiling. "Did I do that to you?"

She met his eyes, then reached out and tousled his already-tousled hair affectionately. "No. That's just me." He gave her a dubious look. "Really," she responded. "In all of my what-ifs, I never saw myself as the life of the party. Or anyone's wife-and-mum." She looked thoughtful. "Whenever I wondered, what if I had never met the Doctor? What would my life be like?" She glanced around the room. "It was a lot like this. Only so much less rich and wonderful without you having been a part of it."

Harry bounded out of the TARDIS just then, dressed in the clothes he had been wearing the day they took off on their journey. "Phone's dead, of course," he said. "I'll recharge it on the drive home and then call in to work."

"Is Thor okay?" Sarah asked as she remembered the original reason for Harry's call to his neighbors.

Harry nodded. "Dan and Lucy took him in when I...erm...disappeared. Fortunately, I'd told them I was going out of town that morning. So they were keeping an eye out for me to return, and when I didn't, they just moved him next door to their place."

"Good neighbors," Sarah said.

Harry nodded. "Good friends." He stepped in front of the Doctor and looked him in the eye. "Doctor," he said earnestly. "Thank you. Wonderful adventure. Let's do it again sometime." He raised his eyebrows. "Not necessarily right away, but sometime."

"You're always welcome aboard, Commodore," the Doctor said with a grin, taking Harry's offered hand in both of his.

"Thank you. Good to hear." His eyes twinkled. "You know, you might want to consider finding another doctor for your next travelling companion. And if you do, take the time to teach him something about Time Lord medicine and physiology. Given your lifestyle..." He broke off, then continued with a laugh. "What I am thinking? Of course it would be a her, not a him. Pretty young female doctor. That's your style. Maybe even a doctor in training. Someone who's still open to new ideas."

"I'll keep that advice in mind," the Doctor said with a smile.

Harry turned and headed to the door, Sarah following to see him out. He retrieved his coat from her closet, opened the door, then turned to look at her, all levity gone from his face. "If I call you later, will you be here?" he asked. "Or are you going off with him?"

Sarah was surprised by the question. "I honestly haven't thought that far ahead, Harry," she answered with a laugh.

"Well. Think about this when you do get around to it," he said, and he took her in his arms and gave her another one of those husbandly kisses.

"Harry!" she said in astonishment, once her lips were free. "That's two!"

His eyebrows went up. "Well, we were married for three weeks and all I got out of the deal was one kiss."

She stared at him, eyes wide. "After which you ran straight away before I could say anything."

"Watch me doing that again," he said, grinning as he turned with a wave and headed for his car.

"Harry!" she called after him, exasperated and more than a little bit confused. He just got into his car and drove off.

She walked back into the living room with two fingers on her lips, still feeling his kiss, but not sure what else she was feeling.

The Doctor looked up at her and frowned. "Are you alright?"

"Sure," she said automatically. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You look a little...odd," he said.

I feel a little odd, she thought, but just said, "I'm fine."

The Doctor's lips twitched. "I know you think this old Time Lord can be a bit thick about human relationships." He smiled. "But even I can see that Harry...well....let's just say that, if Harry hadn't been along on the journey, your being gone for three weeks would have been noticed."

She nodded. "Harry's a good friend," she said, wondering why the words she had said so often in the past suddenly sounded different to her this time.

"A very good friend," the Doctor agreed gently. "I'm glad. I hate the thought of you being so alone."

She looked at him. "There's a difference between being alone and being lonely. You know that."

He nodded. "I've been both. Yes. I know."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "I've always been independent. And the older I get, the more I appreciate my own company."

His crooked grin matched hers. "Me too." His face grew serious again. "But still. It's nice to have friends." She nodded and his smile crept back onto his lips. "Special friends."

She went gratefully into his arms, the one place where she had never had to worry or wonder about how she felt. He held her tightly. "He could give you what I never can," he said softly.

She nodded. "I know. But he could never give me what you can." She looked up at him just in time to see his puzzled frown as he worked that out, and she had to grin. "S'pose I'll just have to keep you both," she said nonchalantly.

She felt him chuckle more than she heard him. She put a hand flat on his chest and looked at it, then up at his face. "Speaking of giving. There's something I'd like to give you." She glanced at the clock. "Too late tonight though. Will you stay until tomorrow, or are you too antsy to get back out into the stars?"

"Oh, I think I could probably stand a day or two of earthly domesticity. For your sake," he added with a grin. "We've just been on a nice long adventure, after all." Then his face clouded over. "Am I going to like this thing you want to give me?"

She just raised her eyebrows. "We'll have to see, won't we?"

*********

"Sarah." The Doctor dug in his heels and came to a screeching halt as they started to turn in to Pierre's menswear shop the next day. He looked down at her, eyebrows furrowed. "I like my suit."

"I know you do. So do I," she assured him, getting him moving again and shepherding him through the door. "It's very sharp. But it's the only thing you wear. Wouldn't you like a little variety?"

He stopped again, looking uncomfortable. "No."

"Why not?" she asked, perplexed.

One corner of his mouth drew down. "I'm not sure it's something humans would understand."

She smiled encouragement. "Try me."

He looked at her and wrinkled his nose. "It's a regeneration thing." She waited for him to go on. "You know. New body. Have to find clothes that work with it. Once you find something you like, why change?" He looked down at himself. "You've already changed enough. Need some stability."

She sighed. "Well. When I first met you, you liked velvet smoking jackets and frilly shirts." He nodded, remembering. "But you at least had different colored jackets."

He tugged on his earlobe thoughtfully. "I did, didn't I?"

"So. How about a suit just like that one, but a different color?"

Just then, a short, white-haired man with posture so perfect it almost looked painful walked up to them. "I am Pierre," he said in a rich French accent. "May I help Madam? M'sieur?"

"My friend would like a suit just like the one he's wearing, but in a different color. Can you help us?"

"_Bien sur_," the little man said with a slight bow. "What color did you have in mind?"

Sarah looked up at the Doctor, who shrugged. She looked back at Pierre. "What colors do you have in pin-stripes?"

Pierre excused himself, and reappeared ten minutes later with a selection of fabric samples draped over his arm. He handed the first to the Doctor, who held it up to his chest and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Like it?" Sarah asked.

"Bit too red," he said, pulling a "meh" face. "I'm not a red person anymore."

Pierre took the fabric sample back and handed him another. Sarah looked at the Doctor expectantly.

He peered at himself in the mirror, first with his head tilted to one side, then to the other. "Better. But...I don't know. Black with grey stripes. Bit stark."

Pierre obligingly took that sample back and offered him yet another.

"Oh, _bien_, that does suit M'sieur," Pierre said as the Doctor held the fabric up to his chest and considered his reflection. He looked at Sarah with his eyebrow up and questioning.

She nodded. "_Tres beau_," she said. "You like it?"

He checked out his reflection again. "Yeah," he finally said. "It's nice."

"Wonderful. Pierre, how quickly could you have a suit ready in that material?"

"If m'sieur would allow me to take his measurements..." Pierre said.

The Doctor stood patiently to be measured, turning, lifting his arms and lowering his arms as and when Pierre requested, and only occasionally throwing Sarah a beleagured look.

*******

"Well, was it worth it?" she asked three days later as she watched him modelling his new suit in front of the mirror at her house.

"Worth what?" he asked, tightening his tie, then loosening it artfully again, and gauging the effect on his image.

"Having to wait around for three days?"

He looked up at her, surprised. "Sarah. Have I been acting impatient to leave?"

"No," she said. "But I know you. There's only so much TARDIS tidying and wardrobe cataloging and library reshelving you can do before you start itching to be off."

"Well..." he said. Then he gave her a warm smile. "Thanks for the new suit."

She nodded. "You're welcome. Looks good on you." She smiled. "That blue would have really brought out your eyes in the old days."

He looked back at the mirror and finger-combed his hair a bit. "Not so bad even with these eyes, is it?"

"Not at all," she said.

He turned to face her. "You could come with me." His eyes searched her face, then he raised one eyebrow enticingly. "You and me. In the TARDIS. Just like old times."

She blinked at him. "Have you changed your mind then?" she asked, a bit hesitantly.

He leaned toward her, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide. "About what?"

She paused a moment. "You know. Rationing." His eyebrows said no, he didn't know, so she went on. "Our box of chocolates." He waited, and she smiled. "Just because we lost half the box is no reason to throw out the other half, is it? Or to gulp it all down at a go?"

Laugh lines appeared around his eyes as his mouth stretched into a broad grin. "No. No reason at all."

"So," she said, still hesitant. "You still like the idea of growing old together?"

"I like it very much," he said.

"Then I suppose you'd better...go away. For awhile." she said reluctantly. She thought a moment. "How long?"

"For me or for you?" he asked.

"For you." She thought back over the past weeks, since he had landed unexpectedly on her living room floor. "We've been together for more than two months. How long would you have to stay away to age as much as I have in those two months?"

He sighed deeply and looked off into the middle distance. "Hard to say exactly. If I were still as...naive and optimistic as I once was, I'd plan to stay away two hundred months."

Sarah calculated quickly. "Sixteen years?" she said, aghast.

"Give or take," he agreed.

"But..you're not?"

She'd lost him again, she could see. "Not what?"

"Not still as naive and optimistic as you once were," she clarified. She gave him a sympathetic look. "Well. How could you be."

He smiled sadly. "Life does have a tendency to knock that out of you, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "Oh yes. It does." They both were silent for a moment. "So. How long would you stay away?"

His smile brightened. "As long as I can stand to," he said. "Let's just leave it at that." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "You want me to be back in ten minutes?"

She grinned. "Maybe a little longer than that. I do like my plain old life, too." She looked at him, trying to keep the longing out of her eyes. "Would like it even better if you were in it every day. But..." She laughed ruefully. "I know it can't work that way."

He stepped up to her and wrapped his long arms around her, looking down into her face. "If only humans could regenerate," he finally said wistfully.

Her eyes grew wide. "Could they?" He gave her an amused smile. "No, really. Could they some day? Some scientific breakthrough?"

"Well," he said musingly, drawing the word out and looking over the top of her head. "I'd be the last one to say science can't accomplish something." He looked back down at her. "Who knows? Maybe some day."

"Get to work on that," she said, mock-sternly.

"Will do Ma'am!" He gave her a salute. They both grinned, then Sarah suddenly sobered. "What?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Oh. Just a thought." She looked up at him. "Whatever you do, stay out of London area nursing homes around about the 2030s. Okay?"

He thought for a second, then laughed softly. "Sarah Jane. You are never going to end up in a nursing home."

"Well. Just in case." He laughed again, but then nodded. "Good." She turned her head and gently rested her cheek on his chest. "Don't think I could stand losing the rest of the choccies."

He bent and rested his cheek on top of her head. "Nor I," he said softly.

She closed her eyes and just held him in silence, feeling his arms around her, feeling his chest rise and fall, feeling that curious double heartbeat of his thrumming steadily away under her cheek. Finally, she put both hands flat on his chest and gently pushed back from him.

"Right. Sooner you go, sooner you'll be back," she said briskly, with a determination she did not feel at all.

He nodded, looking intently into her eyes. "Take care of yourself," he said gently.

"Me?" She raised her eyebrows, then shook her head in amazement. "Take Harry's advice. Find yourself a doctor to travel with." Her voice softened. "Someone to take care of you for me when I can't be there."

He gave her a exasperated look. "Honestly. You two seem to think I'm accident prone or something."

She laughed. Then she looked up into his brown eyes and laughed again. "Not at all," she finally reassured him between laughs. "It's just that...well...saving the universe can be a hazardous occupation."

"Well," he said, agreeing with her, but reluctantly.

"So be careful. And be back soon." _Because if you don't come back this time,_ she thought but didn't say. _You will truly break my heart._

The look he gave her made her wonder if he had heard her thoughts, even though she knew he'd never intrude without her permission. _I am a bit too open to you, aren't I? _she thought.

"Maybe a bit," he said out loud. She felt a flush rise into her cheeks. "Sorry. I really couldn't help hearing you."

"Was I shouting?" she said, trying to make it into a joke.

He shook his head. "No. I'm just a bit too open to you, too." He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Well. If I don't go now, I never will." He looked at her with a world of longing in his eyes. "Good bye, Sarah Jane," he said softly.

"Not good bye," she corrected him. "Not this time. See you soon."

He nodded. "Right. See you soon." He stepped over to his time ship and opened the doors, then stood there, facing into the empty console room for a second. "Blimey," he said, then crossed the threshhold and closed the doors behind him.

Sarah stood and watched the TARDIS as the little light on top flashed and the familiar whooshing and wheezing began. The blue box was there, then she wasn't. She was there, then she wasn't.

Then she just wasn't.

"See you soon," Sarah said again, softly, fervently, hopefully.

THE END

(FOR NOW)

******

**Teaser for next episode**

Time.

Sarah Jane Smith had travelled in it. She had been instrumental in mending it. She had seen it buffetting the Doctor with hurricane force once, when she discovered that "the winds of time" wasn't just a poetic fancy. You'd think, she grumbled to herself, being friends with a Time Lord would give you some sort of special dispensation when it came to time. But no.

It still got away from her.

"Eveline?" she said into her mobile as she climbed down the steps and headed toward her Prius. "Is Dora in?" She frowned as she unlocked the car door and opened it, switching the phone from one ear to the other. "I'm supposed to be there in fifteen. Running a bit late. Can you put me into her voice mail? Thanks." She slid behind the wheel, closed the door and settled her handbag on the passenger seat while she waited for the beep. "Dora? Sarah Jane. I'm just going to be a bit late. I know, I missed the last deadline entirely. I am so sorry and I appreciate you giving me another chance. I just had a...family emergency to deal with three weeks ago. You know how it is. Anyway...."

She stopped. She had glanced up at her living room window as she got her keys out, and saw a light flashing there. She opened the car door a crack and...yes...there it was. A whooshing, wheezing, groaning sound, music to her ears, coming from her house.

"Erm...Dora? I think I'm about to have another family emergency," she said into the phone. Then she grinned. "I'll call back when I know for sure what's up."

She disconnected, got out of the car, and ran back up the steps. She was so excited, she had trouble getting the house key into the lock, but soon had the door open and was hurrying through. Just as she was about to round the corner from the entryway to the living room, she heard an unfamiliar and very puzzled female voice.

"Doctor? You've landed us in someone's living room!"

************

STAY TUNED FOR THE SPECIAL FEATURES: Deleted scene, author interview and...???

And thank you for reading!


	17. Deleted Scene

**Deleted Scene**

I'm going to take a page from RTD's book with the Season 4 DVD deleted scenes and explain why this one was deleted before I show it to you. :) Harry really really wanted me to put this scene in. And it flashed in front of my eyes so clearly I had to write it down. It was fun to write. But once I did, Sarah dug her heels in. She said, "This isn't me. I'm all about the Doctor. Love Harry to bits but...not like that. It wouldn't be fair to him. He'd always be second best and he'd know it. He's my best human friend. We've been through hell and back together, he's really the only person I can be myself with because he's the only person who knows about the Doctor, and I just can't do that to him. I can't let him settle for less of a relationship than he deserves, and that's all I can offer him. He should be with a woman who thinks the sun rises and sets in him."

Harry knows all that. And he also knows the Doctor doesn't do domestic. So, he's still hoping he can convince Sarah that the male of her own species has sufficient charms to persuade her to--if not forget the Doctor, because he knows that will never happen--to appreciate how their relationship could change and grow.

Best I could do for Harry was a couple of stolen kisses--and not having Sarah go off with the Doctor. So he's still got a chance to work on her. He still has hopes that this scene--or one like it--will happen some day.

Oh, and this originally was going to take place after Sarah fainted and Harry carried her out of the TARDIS.

Roll deleted scene!

Harry sat on the bed next to her and took both her hands in his. "Sarah," he said. "I had one wonderful marriage. I'd like to have another."

She smiled at him. "I'd like that for you too, Harry."

He tipped his his head toward her, looking her in the eye. "With you."

She looked at him in shock. "Harry!"

"What?" he answered.

"Did you just propose to me?"

He looked thoughtful. "Yes, I think that's what I just did. That's what I meant to do anyway." She just kept looking at him, eyes wide, mouth open. "Is this where I get the "I love you like a brother" speech, then?" he asked.

"Well, I didn't have much choice, did I?" she asked. "You were happily married for twenty-five years to someone who became a good friend. If I hadn't loved you like a brother, it would have ruined all of our lives. I'm not like that."

"I know you aren't," he said.

"Or I would have had to cut you out of my life entirely. And I didn't want to lose you. Made that decision long ago. I'd rather have you in my life as a friend than not in my life at all." Her eyes softened. "And then Marilyn got sick and we went through that horrible time..."

"Wouldn't have made it without you," he said.

She acknowledged his comment with a sad smile. "And after...well...you were..." She trailed off.

"Shattered?" Harry offered.

She reached up, touched his cheek softly. "That too. Certainly wasn't the time to stop thinking of you in a brotherly way."

They sat, deep in memories, for a long moment, eyes downcast. Then Harry took a deep breath. "The Doctor was right. When he told Harpo, you never get over losing someone you love." He looked up at Sarah. "But you do get through it."

She returned his gaze steadily, waiting.

"I'm far enough through it." he said, his heart in his voice. "I'd like to have some joy in my life again. And Sarah Jane, you are my joy." He searched her eyes intently. "Any chance you could stop loving me like a brother and start..." He paused, then let his eyes finish the question.

"I don't know, Harry," she said seriously, shaking her head slowly. "Thirty years." She searched his face, saw the lines that those years had added to the boyish good looks she remembered. Laugh and smile lines, mostly, lines that made him far more attractive now than he had been then. "Maybe we should try an experiment." She reached up and placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him toward her. When his surprised face was close enough to kiss, she paused for a moment, searching his eyes. She liked what she saw. Their lips met.

Some time later, they pulled apart. "Well," Sarah said, a bit breathless. "That wasn't very brotherly."

Harry grinned. "And that certainly wasn't very sisterly. At least not in my family." Then his face fell.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"Well, the experiment was a success. Wasn't it?" he asked.

She blew out a puff of air. "It was for me," she said.

"That means we don't have to repeat it." He tried to look at her sadly, but couldn't quite keep the smile off his lips.

"Oh, no, Harry." she said. "You know the scientific method better than that. One successful experiment doesn't prove anything. Could be a false positive."

"That's right, you really need to run a series of experiments to prove anything," he agreed.

"Exactly," she said.

**UPDATE**: Discussing this with some friends over on the forum, I decided to call this Harry's fantasy sequence--after he catches Sarah Jane when she faints and carries her to the bed and is waiting for her to wake up...everything goes sort of wavery--and this scene picks up--then, when SJ says "Exactly" at the end of the scene, the camera goes all wavery again, and there's an echo effect ("exactly...exactly...exactly...") and when it comes back into focus she's really saying "Exactly when are you going to let me sit up, Harry?" LOL! And the story goes on from there as written.


End file.
